


The Closest Thing To Family

by winstiel_28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Brother Dean, Brother/Brother Incest, Brotherly Love, Gentle Dean, Gentle Dom Dean, Gentle Sex, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Paternal Bobby Singer, Protective Bobby Singer, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Underage Sex, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1901346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winstiel_28/pseuds/winstiel_28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Shut up you little Sasquatch, do you think it's easy making myself look so gorgeous?" Dean joked.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>On the other side of the door, Sam sighed quietly and nodded, biting his lip and turning back again. Things had been so strange lately. What was he thinking?</i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Sam and Dean are sent to stay with Bobby after their father disappears without a trace, they soon discover that their love for each other is a little more than brotherly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Note

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic!  
> Please go easy on me, and leave kudos and comments to let me know what you thought!  
> Thank you! Happy reading! :D

Dean is 19

Sam is 15

1998

Opening his eyes slightly and sighing, Dean cleared his throat and felt the sensitivity fade away as his pupils adjusted to the brightness of the shabby motel room he had been cooped up in over the last couple of days. It was warm in there, maybe even too warm as the windows were tightly sealed shut and the sun was beating down onto the ground outside. And this particular motel smelt of nothing except mould and other things that Dean cared not to think about.

Hunting sure wasn't a luxury lifestyle.

"Are you awake?" A small voice murmured from the other side of the room and Dean grunted in reply, in his words this was as much of a yes after he'd just woken. Neither of the Winchester boys were particularly good morning people.

"Dad went out this morning, like super early." Sam stopped talking as his older brother rolled over on the small bed that creaked and groaned with every movement. "I pretended I was still asleep and when he'd shut the door, I ran to the window and saw him driving off in the Impala."

"No note?" Dean questioned, yawning slightly and running a hand through his already messy hair.

"No note." Sam confirmed, raising an eyebrow and scratching his forehead thoughtfully. He sat at the foot of his bed with his hands in his lap, already showered and dressed before his brother had risen.

"I wish he wouldn't do that..." Dean mumbled to himself, shaking his head ever so slightly and fighting away the bitter thoughts that entered his head and swarmed the good feelings he had towards his father.

After all, John would never have won the Father of the year prize, that was certain, but sometimes there was a little glimpse of hope in him, when he wasn't hunting, John would sometimes take the kids out for pizza, or bowling if money was good. But sometimes he just didn't seem to understand what it was like for them to grow up living with a dad who they rarely saw. And even when they did see him, it was like he didn't know how to act like a parent.

It all started when Mary died, before then, John was the most loveable man and father that everybody knew. Death changes people, that's true, but not usually so drastically as it changed poor John Winchester, who now spent his days carrying on the hunting and trying to kill the bad that took his beloved away.

After Dean had wrapped himself in a paper-thin towel that hung limply by the side of the shower, he turned off the freezing cold water and stood shivering like a small dog in the middle of the bathroom. Motels sucked ass.

"Are you nearly done in there?" Sam whined from the other side of the door, "I'm desperate for a pee, hurry up!"

"Shut up you little Sasquatch, do you think it's easy making myself look so gorgeous?" Dean joked, ignoring his brother's pleas to use the toilet.

 

On the other side of the door, Sam sighed quietly and nodded, biting his lip and turning back again. Things had been so strange lately. What was he thinking?

The small smile Dean held on his face soon faded, he hadn't been too happy recently, there wasn't really too much to be happy about but, Dean had felt especially annoyed and upset. John came and went as he usually did and to be quite frank, Dean had had more than enough. Sam would bicker endlessly with their father, resulting in them both getting pissed and Dean trying to break the awkward silences that usually followed. No note from dad, which was never a good sign, meant that Dean would try and contact Bobby to see if he knew their father's whereabouts.

Honestly, the way John ran off without a word was like a small child sulking. He'd come back days later, bruised and bloody and fucked off with the world, sit on some moth-bitten sofa in the next motel and drink himself to sleep. It's weird watching your father waste away day by day, then suddenly he'd be onto the next case and wouldn't have time to sit around anymore. He'd use his newfound energy to kill whatever he was hunting and then come back and repeat the performance he always played. Pissed at the boys, then too drunk to think.

A couple hours later and Sam and Dean were sitting at the edge of the steps outside of their motel room in the cool morning breeze, waiting for Bobby to come pick them up in his truck and take them back to his house.

"I'm hungry Dean." Sam stated after a while, clutching his stomach and sighing, his brows furrowed.

"We can wait 'til Uncle Bobby gets here and then grab a bite to eat, okay?" He answered, trying to ignore the growing sensation of hunger that was creeping around in his own body.

"Dean, he isn't our real uncle, ya know? You don't have to call him that. We aren't five anymore." Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother and bit into the fingernail of his thumb as he always did, an annoying anxious habit that Dean hated.

"Well he's the closest thing we have to family apart from dad and that don't change no matter how old we are, understand?" Dean's voice was louder that he anticipated and he frowned at the younger sibling through the thick curling eyelashes that Sam endlessly teased him about. Bobby and Sam had never been as close as he and Dean. Dean had memories of childhood visits to uncle Bobby's house where they would both go out to the nearest park and play frisbee. Dean remembered feeling real happy in those times, no one would even glance at the two of them as they laughed and joked, looking like an everyday, loving family. Dean always hated when he had to go home after staying there, the harsh truth of reality would soon punch him in the face when all he could do with his own father was call him 'Sir' and try and stay out of his way when he was angry.

"I can always tell when you're thinking." Sam continued "Cos your eyes mist over a little and you move your mouth without actually saying anything."

"You're a weird one, Sammy." Dean smiled as he playfully punched his younger brother on the arm and turned back to the road as he heard the sound of tyres against gravel as Bobby drove down the dusty path.


	2. Bobby's House

Sitting in the back of Bobby's truck, the window rolled down the whole way and the deafening roar of the wind flowing into the small space, Dean closed his eyes and sung silently to his favourite song that played through the speakers of the small radio at the front. Bobby drove silently, his eyebrows furrowed and every now and then, glancing through the mirror to check on the two boys.

Sam sat beside his elder, cracking his fingers every now and again, another habit that Dean detested, and trying not to let sleep take over. Why was he so tired all of a sudden? 

Taking a piece of extra crispy chicken from the bucket that sat in the middle of the Winchesters, Sam took a bite and stared thoughtfully out of the mirror. When was the last time they had eaten? He could remember stopping off at a gas n sip three miles before the motel, but after that he didn't remember anything else. That explains the growling noises his stomach had been making all morning, complaining about the lack of food.

Every now and again, Sam would turn around in his seat, not enough to catch Dean's attention, and he would look at him from the corner of his eye. Dean had definitely got the attractive genes, Sam thought to himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands and then wiping the grease onto the chair beside him, praying Bobby hadn't seen.

Dean was sitting with his hands behind his head, his eyes firmly closed and a small half smile on his face. The sun was just above the trees that seemed to protect the truck from harm and small rays were hitting the windows and bouncing off Dean's hair, casting shadows and making it appear more of a caramel colour.

Memories that made Sam smile always had Dean involved in some way, he was the one who looked after him when he was hurt, he was the one that he would go to when he was upset, he was the one who shared a bed with him if Sammy happened to have a nightmare; overall, Dean was someone who Sam loved so much that it actually pained him to even look at him.

"Would ya quit staring at me?" Dean chuckled, opening one eye and pretending to be creeped out by his kid brother.

"I-I'm not." Sam stuttered, trying to play it cool and hoping that the smile that was poised on his face looked real enough to Dean.

"Still worried about dad?" Dean asked, sitting up and stretching his arms out, yawning slightly.

"To be honest I never was. He goes out like this all the time. He just usually leaves a note." Sam replied honestly, biting his lip a little, wondering if his words came out harsher than intended.

Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother and just nodded lightly, it was pretty obvious that Sam and their dad had never seen eye to eye, but Dean was sure as hell worried about their father. It wasn't like him to go and not leave anything.

Even a map or a state name would be good, any sign of where their father might have gone would be of some kind of comfort to Dean. But of course he didn't show his anxiety, that would be totally against his characteristics. He had a reputation to hold, Dean thought to himself as he stared at the masses of fields and houses that flashed past the window as they sped along country roads that led into cities.

When you don't really know your dad, and only really knew your mother for four years of your life, which resulted in not really knowing her too well either; it kind of changes you as a person. Dean was secretive and he didn't like to get involved in things that either meant change or loyalty or any of that kind of bull. He stuck to what he knew, family, and hunting. To him, that would suit him fine. Dean didn't mind dying a hunter, to be honest, he sometimes looked forward to death to see what it had to offer.

 

"Here we go boys." Bobby sounded as he slid the key from the ignition and opened the creaking car door and stepping outside onto the gravely path.

Sam unbuckled his seat belt and sat back for a second, it was always a little awkward when him and Bobby were alone, purely because it was so obvious that Dean was his favourite, after all, why wouldn't he be? Sam's thoughts were always on the bitter side when it came to Bobby, he could see why he chose Dean before him, but it kind of made him jealous the way they'd talk and joke about. Sam never really felt as involved as he would have liked to be in those situations.

Dean jumped out of the vehicle and patted the middle aged man on the back, smiling the most genuine smile he had to offer, something that only the best of the best received, and getting one back in return. Although the smile that he was given didn't quite reach the man's eyes. Bobby hadn't been happy for such a while, the withering face and the wrinkles that followed still grew and the sunken looking face never changed.

That's what happens when you get addicted to alcohol, it fucks you up. Bobby just happened to catch the bug and now he was hooked, not the healthy, bouncing young man he once was who was happily married and well away from hunting, that man was gone. In his place stood a sad, depressed and lonely man who spent his days helping out others and drinking expensive alcohol which was his only luxury in life.

"You're gonna have to share a bed, I'm afraid." Bobby sounded as he unlocked his front door and the three males stepped into the dark house that kept so many secrets. "I weren't expectin' no guests."

"Doesn't matter." Dean started, trying to lighten the mood that seemed to be moving downhill. "We've done it a million times before, right Sammy?" He asked, turning and stalking off to the garden to inspect the cars.

 

Sam gulped nervously and bit the insides of his mouth, this was going to be a difficult night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's enjoying my fic and that it isn't too bad to read!  
> Remember to leave kudos and comments! :3


	3. Don't Let Your Feelings Show

The day seemed to go quite quickly for Dean, who helped out in the yard with Bobby for the last few hours until dusk. He walked back into the small home with blue overalls that swamped his size and grease running through his hair and face.

Bobby had cooked some spaghetti and meat sauce for the boys, (after all, he wasn't a gourmet chef and didn't want to waste his good ingredients on two teenagers) and they all sat down in the back room on the beaten sofas to eat.

 

Sam was nervous. He'd been nervous since Bobby had announced that he and Dean would be sharing a bed. Not because he didn't think he wouldn't be able to control himself around his own brother; but because he didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable by ignoring him. In Sam's eyes, the only way to stop him spilling his feelings to Dean would be to ignore him completely. Ignore his deep, husky voice that made Sam smile, whatever Dean was saying. Ignore his dazzling green eyes that seemed never ending. Sam was good at reading people's eyes and when he looked into Dean's, in a, you know, totally non sexual way, he saw pain and heartbreak. And all that did to Sam was make him want to comfort Dean and care for him. Which would certainly not go down well.

Bobby looked at the black watch on his wrist and placed his glass of whiskey on the table, clapping his hands together once to get the two boys attentions. "This ain't no summer vacation. And I ain't stayin' up all night drinkin' myself dry of all my alcohol. Think it's time you two went and took yourselves to bed." Bobby had cheered up a little from their meeting that morning. His cheeks were rosy from the alcohol and the chat he'd had with Dean whilst out in the yard had made him smile, Dean was such a good kid, he thought to himself as he took another swig of the strong liquid and watch Dean stride towards the staircase, his kid brother galloping along after him like it physically pained him to be away from him for more than a second.

Bobby had two bedrooms in his house, one for him and one that was tucked away right at the back of the house that was rarely slept in and wasn't the best kept. Sam and Dean didn't really seem to mind, in their eyes, they were in a house for once and that felt so much better than some crappy motel in the middle of nowhere.

"G'night Sammy." Dean whispered after they had both slipped into the cold bed and tucked themselves far under the soft duvet. He then proceeded to ruffle his younger brother's hair who was lying straight on the other side.

Sam didn't answer. He was afraid his voice might break and Dean might wonder what the hell was up.

"You ignorin' me?" Dean's voice was full of playful violence as he turned over in the bed then and waited, silence filled his ears. Taking both hands he placed them on his brother's stomach and dug his fingers in, looking at Sammy who was trying his very best not to turn over and laugh.

Dean had learnt this trick when he had been caring for Sammy one summer when Dean couldn't have been older than eight, Sammy was in a bad mood and had refused to talk to his brother three days straight. In the end, Dean had tickled the bad out of him and once again, they were back to being best friends.

 

"Dean, don't." Was Sam's reply. It shocked Dean a little. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Don't _what_?" He questioned.

"Just _don't_ do that, okay?" There was something pleading in Sam's voice and Dean didn't want to irritate him. He just wanted to find out what was wrong.

Obviously the first question that sprung to mind was if Sammy was worried about dad, and the answer was no. Which stung a little because Dean had always just wanted them to get along. Dean asked a series more of questions similar but the answer was always a no in a flat tone, like Sammy was pissed with Dean.

 

So, rolling over in the old bed, confused and annoyed, Dean shut his eyes and drifted off into a pleasant sleep almost immediately.

 

On the other side of the bed, Sam gulped nervously. Maybe he should have made sure he didn't sound so annoyed when Dean talked to him. He must have sounded like such a dick.

The only sound in the room now was that of the gentle snoring noises Dean was making as he lay facing the other wall, his hands thrown askew over the duvet and his body tilted slightly.

Sam bit his lip anxiously. What the fuck was he thinking? This was the worst idea ever. How fucked up do you have to be to like your own brother? Sam was angering himself into a stupor. Making himself think that what he felt towards his brother was totally one sided and totally wrong.

But, on the other side of the bed, his older brother had feelings of his own that he couldn't quite describe... Something in him that saw past caring for Sammy as a brother and a protector, more of a friend in fact. And over the last couple of years as Sam had sprouted and grown into his features, he'd turned into quite a good looking boy. Dean didn't let his feelings show though. That was his number one rule in life, if you let your feelings known, then you can easily get caught.


	4. You're Beautiful

Sam lay in the darkness for all of ten minutes before he turned his head sideways and stared lovingly at the back of his elder brother's head of light brown hair.

Dean made soft snoring sounds and little movements as he slept peacefully in the large bed, tucked up in the corner away from Sam who had acted like a dick to him only moments before.

"I'm sorry." Sam whispered quietly, shuffling over on the bed and taking full advantage of the fact that Dean was sound asleep and wouldn't hear Sammy confess his deepest, darkest secrets.

No sound rose and Sam new that it was safe to talk again.

"I try to pretend that it's not happening. But the thing is Dean, I can't kid myself any longer. My feelings for you have rapidly changed and I've found myself loving you with a sense of devotion instead of the brotherly love I was filled with for so many of those years." The word spilled out endlessly from Sam's lips and he blinked hard as a few tears slid down his burning cheeks. Wiping them away quickly, he continued:

"A-and. I wanted to tell you. Hell, I wanted to _scream_ it out for the whole world to hear. Imagine what they'd say to that? The fuckers that stick to the rules of society and frown at anything different. They'd _hate_ it. But I wouldn't care. Because I'd know that you knew. And that would be a million times better than being accepted by people. Because the only person I want to be accepted by Dean, is _you_." And Sam gently stroked the back of his brother's hair, unaware at the shocked face and widened eyes that lay facing the wall on the other side of the bed.

Sam swore quietly and rolled back over, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping sleep would quickly take him away so that he wouldn't have to sit in pain anymore. The love of his life less than a metre from him, the warmth of his body and gentle welcoming of the small sleep noises he made every now and then.

 

"If I'd have known how you felt, I would have confessed before." And Dean rolled over on the soft mattress and stared, wide-eyed at Sam, who looked like he wanted to die, throw up and then shoot himself in the face all at once.

But hearing Dean's words, Sam's face twisted into a sudden look of confusion as a soft smile broke from his brother's soft pink lips.

"W-what do you mean?" He stuttered quietly, and without Dean knowing, he pinched himself under the covers to make sure he wasn't having some sort of dream that would be very embarrassing to explain if he woke up.

"I mean," and Dean cleared his throat quietly before continuing, "that if you had told me how you felt before, I would have smiled back at you and told you that I felt exactly the same. Because, I don't know if you know this Sammy but, you're fucking _beautiful_." Sam had to breathe heavily to try and catch his breath.

"You think I'm beautiful?" He whispered, his eyes full of question and love mixed together.

"I think you're _more_ than beautiful. To be quite honest Sammy, I don't think there's even a word that describes how precious you are to me." And Dean slowly took out a hand and brushed his brother's soft cheek, wiping away the tears and pushing stray strands of hair behind his ear.

Sam gasped quietly and his whole body became rigid. Dean's touch always did this to him. Made him go so alert and full of caution that he looked almost petrified.

"Do you wanna know how long I've felt like this, Dean?" Sam asked after a few minutes of laying quietly, staring into the emerald eyes of his sibling.

Dean nodded, confirming, and then leaned in a little closer, wrapping two muscly arms around his brother's warm body and pulling him in to a tight hug.

He could feel Sammy's breath against his neck and it sent shivers down his whole body, the small hairs that lay there rose and he bit the inside of his lip.

"Since forever. Dean, I don't think I could ever like someone as much as I like you. And I try not to show it, I really do. You're amazing in literally _every_ way possible and I can't get enough of you." Sam sighed and looked up at his brother, picking up a hand and tracing the line of Dean's jaw with his fingertip.

Dean closed his eyes slightly and a small smile slid across his face. And, without any warning, Sam used both hands to pulls his brother's face down and planted the softest of kisses on Dean's lips. Using just as much pressure needed as he felt the thumping of his heart against his own bare chest.

Sam pulled away slowly, but Dean was not done. Taking his own hands and burying them into Sammy's hair, he kissed him back all the more passionately.

And with permission from Sam, gently slipped his tongue into his brother's mouth and listened to the sounds of appreciation Sam made as Dean slowly worked his way around.

"I don't wanna rush you Sammy." Dean whispered breathlessly as he pulled away to catch some air as a small smirk landed on Sam's face.

"Dean, I've been waiting years for this moment. _Years_. In fact, I'm scared I'm rushing _you_. Take it as slowly as you want to, but I can tell you that I'm not gonna give in." And Dean raised an eyebrow at the sudden cockiness of his younger brother and realised he sounded just like Dean himself, that was a scary thought.

And with that, the kiss deepened once again as Sam secretly slipped a hand under the covers and touched Dean's thigh gently, making him jump as he held him in his arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part was hard to write because I found it quite difficult to set the scene, but don't worry, there will be much more info in the next part! ;)  
> Be sure to leave Kudos and Comments :)


	5. I've Never Wanted Anything More Than I Want You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first real sexual scene in here and I'd like to know how you felt about it. Was it any good? The positive reaction I've gotten from this story so far has been so motivating and I'm so happy about it!  
> Please remember to leave kudos and comments as always!  
> Happy reading :)

Dean decided to go slow. Real slow. Although Sam was excited enough already and with that cocky attitude of his, Dean still would never hurt his precious baby out of choice.

"Are you sure you want this?" Dean whispered gently, Sam looked physically pained at the thought of being pulled away from his brother's mouth as Dean spoke.

"You know, if this is what want feels like, I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than I want _you_ right now." Sam's breathing was unsteady and loud, the lust in his eyes shone and Dean couldn't help but lap up his brother's pure beauty.

"Oh Sammy, you always did have know how to get round me." Dean smiled slightly and kissed Sam's forehead, leading down his nose and gently stopping on his mouth.

Sam still had his warm hand held protectively over Dean's thigh and it made Dean feel safe; which was strange because it had always been the other way round. Sam would feel protected wherever we went with Dean, but sometimes Dean needed that little bit of safety too.

"Dean, quit teasing. I want you." Sam whispered breathily he sighed deeply and silently noted in his head that it was good that both the brothers slept with their tops off, now he could just lean in and touch Dean without trying to take a t shirt off too.

Using his gentle hands, Sam used the very fingertips to run them against his brother's collar bone who to Sam, seemed to have lost all control of his breath and was breathing sharp and quickly. Sam ran his hands down a little lower and stopped above Dean's belly button.

 

Dean could not wait to strip his little brother down, see him in all his glory that he knew, would just make him all the more beautiful to him. Sam's gentle hands were working their way up and down his chest and Dean was glad, it gave him a little time to think of what he would do in return. There were countless ways, but Dean had promised to himself that he would go slow and gentle, no fucking poor little Sammy around. That was at the top of his list.

"Sam." Dean gasped after a few minutes, trying to regain control over his voice and failing completely. Sam looked up with a look of pure concentration, his hand lay flat across the broad muscle above Dean's left nipple.

"Have you ever done anything like this before?" Dean gasped again, breathing in deeply through his nose and catching some more breath to store away. Sam bit his lip thoughtfully. He could lie to his brother and tell him he had, but Dean would know straight away that his brother was lying. He could also just not answer and carry on working Dean's body. But then Dean would demand an answer. In the end, Sam looked down shamefully and shook his head, taking his hand away from his brother and not wanting to look him in the eye.

"Ah Sam." Dean's face was split into a perfect smile, although it hurt to feel the ghost of is brother's touch on him, he continued "That's perfect, baby! Absolutely _perfect_! You don't need to be ashamed of a little thing like that." And he held Sam's chin in his hand, staring deeply into the hazel eyes of his perfect brother.

"Y-you really think so?" Sam asked, his eyes so wide and so beautiful that Dean could no longer control himself.

He threw the blanket from the bed into a scrunched up pile at the end and kissed Sam once on the mouth. Sam moaned in reply as he wanted more, but Dean had other ideas. He kissed from his mouth, down his neck, past both nipples, past the belly button and stopped at the elasticated band of his brother's underwear that now had an obscene bulge in them.

"Dean, quit teasing. _Need_ you." Was all Sam could muster as Dean gently tugged at the clothing and slipped it past Sam's thighs, managing not to look as he did so. When Sam was completely naked, laying there exposed, but not embarrassed because he was with Dean, and, how the hell could he be embarrassed in front of him?

"Oh Sammy, you're so beautiful. I could, well I could just stare at you all day long and I don't think I'd even get tired." Dean's eyes were bright and he gently ran a fingertip up Sam's thigh and stopped near the warmth of his brother's dick. He wanted it to be special, not quick and then over.

"Dean. Please. I need you." And with that Sam groaned loudly, frustrated at the tension between him and his brother.

As Dean knew, Sam was a virgin. He'd never done anything. So, gently moving his hand away from his thigh, Dean breathed in sharply and placed it on the shaft of Sam's dick instead, feeling it twitch beneath him.

Sam moaned lightly and Dean smiled, the noises that left Sam were what was making the whole thing better. He took it in his hands, marvelling at Sam's face as he did so, and gently moved it up and down.

Dean knew for certain that Sam had done this to himself before, he had pretended to be asleep in thousands of shabby motel rooms as Sam softly moaned from the bed in the corner, he knew exactly what he did. And soon Dean himself was hardening, just from the look of pure pleasure on Sammy's face. God. That look was the absolute best. Dean didn't think he'd seen something so amazing before now.

And then, with absolutely no warning whatsoever, whilst Sam has his eye squeezed shut, his face growing more and more red by the second, Dean gently put the top of his mouth at the bottom of Sam's dick and felt his hips rock and the loud gasp that protruded his lips sound.

Well, Sam had clearly never had a blowjob before.

So using his hands and his mouth, Dean moved up and down in sync. Now, Dean wasn't gay. It wasn't like he'd give a hundred blowjobs before. It just simply felt so normal with Sam that anything he did was right. Even Sam in his mouth didn't disgust him, because it was Sam.

"Dean. Please. I'm gonna-" And Sam was cut off, his whole body growing rigid as Dean soon felt a sticky warmth entering his mouth. The look on Sam's face said it all, he was amazed by Dean. What power Dean possessed and he couldn't get enough of him.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Sam whispered, his body flat and spread out across the bed, his heart beating faster than ever. He was wrecked for.

"I dunno. I watched girls do it to me a hundred times over. That was okay but, nothing could beat what I just did to you." And Dean's smile was so honest and sincere that Sam felt his eyes well up a little.

Sam looked so out of everything that Dean tried to ignore the bulge in his own pants and the need to come so that Sam could rest. He didn't really care about himself that much to ask Sam to sort him out. Sammy was his first and only priority in the world.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean answered his little brother's quiet question.

"Can I try and do that to you?" And Dean's heart stopped, a tiny moan escaped his lips and Sam took his as a yes.

Pulling down his brother's underwear and discarding them on the floor beside the bed, staring down at the fully erect penis in front of him. He had to admit, it was slightly intimidating. But it was Dean and that helped. So, using his hands. He gently rubbed and knew he was doing right because of the look Dean made as he did so. Sam felt fingers entwining in his hair and couldn't wait any longer. He had watched Dean use his mouth to make him happy, so now he was going to do the same.

Slowly, and very slowly indeed, he wrapped his lips over his brother's dick and heard the low growl Dean made in reply. God, this was amazing. Dean pushed Sam's head down slightly, but not enough to hurt him. And Sam resisted his urges of stroking his own dick as he put all of his attention to attending to his brother.


	6. Draining The Life From His Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We found out where John's disappeared to, and it doesn't look good.

Five days later...

 

John pulled his eyes away from the blinding light and winced. His head heavy to hold up and his eyelids threatening to seal closed. The empty house was completely silent apart from the drip of water that broke through one of the rusting pipes in the corner and splashed down against the mousing carpet.

John moved his right wrist slightly and winced at the pain that he felt run down his arm, he was bound tightly. No way he'd be able to get out of this trap anytime soon. And the constant taste of blood that swarmed his mouth was not helping his desperate attempts to break through the bounds and run to his car, drive to wherever his two kids were at and hold them like he'd never held them before.

That's all John longed for in these never ending moments. It had come to the point where John could not even swallow without gasping from the pain because to him, his mouth felt so dry that if he would have tried to talk, it might have shattered. A single bulb shone brightly above, an ugly fluorescent light that gave John migraines as dark shadows formed around the area of light in which he was placed in.

His back ached like hell, his nose was broken and had no time to fix because as soon as it it started to feel better, they would come back and smash him in the face harder, resulting in a large loss of blood as the crimson liquid pumped out of John's nose almost every second.

They had broken his right wrist first, tied him down to a chair and placed his arm on the floor, he remembered how uncomfortable that position was, when he was unaware of the pain they were about to inflict on him shortly. And then they had stretched his right arm out as far as it would reach, and the tall balding man and had placed a foot on it before lifting it up an dropping it hard, smiling at the crunching sounds as he continued to do so for more than five minutes.

John's left leg was broken and limp by his side, the constant numbed pain shooting up his body and never letting him sleep, he was so worn out and beaten that it would have been easy for him to let into fatigue. But the constant injuries and blows he was receiving were stopping that sleep. Making him feel worse than he had ever felt before.

And they had tricked him, knew that without sleep, John was soon to hallucinate, Mary had visited him more than once. But it want Mary, no matter how many times he had sobbed until the tears dried up, she still constantly blamed him for her death.

"It was _your_ fault John, all  yours. And you're never going to find the monster that you thought took me, because he is you. All you. Now you're being punished for that. You're never going to see those two sons of yours again. And, they're probably pretty happy about that." The pain he received from this was worse than when they had smashed the side of his head in repeatedly with a large thick piece of metal. He couldn't even find the strength to tell himself that Mary wasn't really there, that he was imagining everything. Because he had given up, he just wanted to did now.

The only thing he felt like he had to do was tell Sam and Dean that he would never leave them on purpose. When he had driven out of that small motel in his Impala, the first day of the never ending torture, he had been going out to pick up a treat for the two boys. Sure it had been early in the morning, but he had wanted it to be a surprise. Christmas wasn't too far away and he had got two specially crafted knifes made for the boys, a friend who lived three states away has been making the weapons for the boys since June and he had been more than excited to pick them up.

But when he had reached the fellow hunter's house at around five o'clock in the morning, he had found it ransacked. Instantly he knew something was wrong, so he went in to help. Only to find his friend dead on the floor, he'd been beaten and torn so bad that John thought that he could see some of his skull protruding the bloodied skin on his head.

Holding back the sudden urge to be sick, John did all he could to make it more dignified and shut the man's eyelids, he'd never gotten used to the way the dead still stared endlessly into you.

And that was when they had caught him, smashed him round the head the butt of one of their guns and knocking him out before he could counteract. When he had awoken, he was in the dingy house he now sat in.

 

John hadn't figured what they were. Human? No, because they seemed to know so much about him and unless they were either possessed or part of the hunting community, they must have been some kind of monster. He'd never gotten the chance to meet one of these things before. To John, they looked like living breathing humans. It was something John needed to find out. If he knew what they were, he might be able to try and stop them. Yet they were good, very good in fact, at hiding their true identities.

So all they did was carry on to torturing John for their pleasure. And it seemed to be working. He had never seen a monster look so happy and satisfied as these ones did as they slowly worked their way around killing the hunter. And John knew, six days had passed and his strength was slowly being drained from his body.

Soon, it would be his time to leave. These helpless fuckers had finally taken John and he hadn't even seen it coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just a short part of story so they you guys could know what had happened to John and know that he didn't just leave the two boys to fend for themselves.   
> Kudos and comments would be much appreciated!   
> Thanks :)


	7. Hurt Real Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six days later and Sam and Dean wake perfectly happy, only to find Bobby sobbing and terrified to tell them the horrific news of their father.

Dean gently stroked the small of Sam's back as they both lay comfortably in the large bed. The noises Sam was making as he slept were positively adorable, Dean couldn't hide the smile on his face as he watched his baby brother dream quietly.

"Baby," He whispered gently, leaning in closer to his brother and planting a small kiss on his warm forehead.

"Mmm?" Sam replied lazily, gently rubbing his eyes and blinking a couple of times before smiling at Dean with loving eyes.

"It's time to get up. We are gonna help Bobby see if he can find dad today. Sorry to wake you early and all, but it's important." Dean wrapped his arms round his brother protectively and pulled him into a long hug that seemed to lasts an infinite time.

Sam breathed in the well known scent of his brother, slight hint of beer, that smell that was just Dean and had no other explanation and that distinct smell of oiled car parts, after all, it was no surprise when Dean had spent most of his day tucked up in Bobby's garage the day before.

"I like this." Sam started quietly, hiding his blushing face in his brother's muscular chest and feeling Dean move slightly beneath him. "Feel really safe like this." He muttered gently.

Dean cupped his baby brother's face in his hands and stared into his eyes, boy was he gorgeous. The events that had taken place a few nights ago had gone unspoken, and in a way, Dean was glad. It might have made everything that was nice suddenly really awkward. And he sure didn't want that.

After a few minutes of cuddling, Dean broke away first and tried to ignore the groan Sammy made as he did so. Dean had never realised how strong his brother's feelings were for him and it made him secretly smile with pride. Pulling on a black t shirt, a pair of jeans and a checkered shirt over the top, Dean trudged down the wooden stairs with Sam not far in tow.

As they reached the kitchen, joking around and playfully punching each other as teenage boys often did; they both stopped dead in their tracks as they saw Bobby in the middle of the tiled floor, head in his hands and tears streaming down his face.

"B-Bobby?" Dean stuttered quietly, leaving his brother's side and racing to meet his friend. "What in god's name _happened_?" But inside, Dean knew. It had to be about his Father, it just had to be.

Bobby wouldn't meet the young man's gaze as he quickly wiped the remainder of tears away and stood up, biting the inside of his lip hard until he could taste blood swirling in his mouth. Sighing, he managed to look at the two Winchesters before turning back and breaking into short sobs once again.

"What's happened, Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked so sincerely, his voice highlighted with a certain fear that Dean felt churning in his stomach. He'd remembered his words a few days before and how he had sternly put his brother in place, it would always be Uncle Bobby.

"I'm gonna need you two boys to brace yourselves. Sit down, I'm gon' get yer both a glass o' whiskey." And Bobby snivelled, motioning for the boys to leave the room and sit down on his beaten sofa.

Sam and Dean knew exactly what was coming. Something bad had happened. Very bad. It had to be about their dad, it just had to be.

They could hear the sound of whiskey splashing against the bottom of three tumblers and then the sound of shuffling feet, Bobby left the kitchen and moved over to side opposite the two boys. With red swollen eyes and a pale face, Bobby wiped a stray tear away with the back of a calloused hand and sighed.

"Dean" Bobby stared at him gently "Sam" he did the same to his brother and downed the burning liquid in one, sighing. "It's about your pap." Bobby shook his head and totally out of character, grabbed the two boy's hands and squeezed them reassuringly.

Dean's breath caught in his throat and he bit the inside of his mouth ferociously. No. He had wished that he would have been wrong. Sam looked strangely calm.

"He's hurt real bad, boys." And Bobby's voice broke and he slammed a foot against the floor, scrunching up his face and ignoring the seeping tears that ran quickly past every wrinkle and line and splashed against the table.

"H-how hurt?" Dean muttered quietly, frowning hard. He couldn't cry. Not yet. Not until he knew what had happened.

"Look, I'm gonna tell you two straight. That dad of yours, he ain't gonna live. Whatever's done this weren't goin' gentle on the poor bastard. His skull's been smashed in so much that even if he lives, it ain't gonna be your daddy anymore." Bobby's nostrils flared and he took the two other glasses on he table, ignoring the glances from the two boys and downed them just as quickly as the first.

 

It's strange how your mood can change so damn quickly. One minute, Dean's thoughts had been soft and good, Sam's beautiful face and body seeping into everything he thought about. That had disappeared in a matter of minutes. Now he had to cope with the fact that his dad was dying and from the sound of it, it was t going to be too long until he finally went.

 

"How did you find out?" Sam asked, not even a hint of emotion threatening to shake him. Sure, him and John had never seen eye to eye, but this certainly wasn't the reaction Bobby was expecting. Maybe it would just take him longer to show his emotions.

"Rufus found him. As soon as I had picked you two idjits up I called him and he went searchin' for him. Didn't take him long at all. Got back to me this mornin', boys, your pap ain't gonna live past tonight." And Bobby sighed, staring down at the wooden table in front of him and frowning so much that it looked like his face was going to stick.

"We need to go and see him." Dean whimpered, his voice full of unwanted, thick emotion that rattled his whole body and made him feel bound to the soft chair he sat in.

"That's what I was plannin' on doin', take you two boys down there today and say goodbye to him properly. Then, give him the hunter's funeral that your old man deserves." Bobby shook his head slightly, not quite believing the news he had received.

This was a nightmare that no one could escape.

Dean packed a bag with numb fingers and downed five cups of pure black coffee before following Bobby and Sam out to the truck where he started the engine silently and drove swiftly across the road.

Under the sleeve of his coat, Dean pinched himself hard, this would either wake him up from the nightmare; or if this fucked up crap was real, stop him from bursting into tears.

God, he hadn't expected John to be hurt, he left a lot without leaving notes or anything. But he'd never been put in danger before, John Winchester was more than capable of defending himself, so how in god's name had this happened?

Revenge surged through Dean's veins and his vision turned blurred and all he could see was a thick mist of red, he clenched his fists and felt them whiten at the tight hold, he was going to kill whatever fucker chose to do this to his father. And he was going to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to write three parts today because I had time off! I'll probably begin posting one part each day until summer because I'm still at school :(  
> Remember to leave kudos and comments as always :)


	8. As Things Got Better, They Got Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby, Sam and Dean arrive at the house where John's torture took place, bracing themselves for the worst.

Laying back with his head pressed up against the back of the beaten leather seats that filled Bobby's truck, Sam closed his eyes shut so tight that it gave him a headache and held onto the material beneath him with such a death grip that his knuckled whitened in seconds.

Just as things got better, they got worse. That was how Sam's life had seemed to pan out from the day his mother burned above him on the ceiling of his bedroom, the look of twisted horror etched into her face as the blood slowly dropped from her stomach. It was really no surprise that Sam found it hard to express his feelings, with everything that had happened to him, he had learnt to try and hide it. And he had done the exact same thing with his feelings for Dean, almost all of his life.

Maybe John Winchester had not had the perfect father-son relationship that he might have wanted with his youngest (and, if he was perfectly honest, he'd never had that norm with Dean either). But Sam felt so reclusive when his father and Dean had stood talking, or gone out on a hunt, the pride that literally radiated from John and falling on his first born made Sam ache with pain.

Sam was the clever one, John had told him enough. But it never failed to make his son upset, the only thing he could ever compliment him for was for being clever. A lot of people were clever. But John seemed as though he couldn't find the right words to describe Sammy.

 

Turning around slowly and looking to the other side of the car, where Dean sat huddled up in a small ball, eyes gazing out of the window as they sped along field after field and rushed past small shops and trees. He looked so helpless that Sam's chest tightened and he glared at the back of Bobby's chair, biting the inside of his mouth hard, his eyes threatening to spill with tears. No, he couldn't. Not yet.

 

Bobby stopped twice throughout the whole journey, a bathroom break and to get lunch for them all before they carried on their journey, not really wanting to find out what laid in store for them at the other end.

"Eat your burger, Dean." Bobby couldn't quite believe that he was saying that to Dean, of all people. He would have usually inhaled the whole thing the second the waitress had put it down and asked for another, laying on the charm thick. But he had other problems today.

"I don't feel like eating." Dean muttered quietly, looking down and letting a tear spill and splash against the clean table beneath him.

Under the table, Sam lifted his hand and gently brushed it across Dean's thigh reassuringly, listening to the change of his breathing at his younger brother's touch. His face softened ever so slightly, not that anyway would notice if they weren't looking for it, and glanced so quickly at Sam that it was almost unnoticeable.

But after sitting in silence for ten minutes and trying to ignore the growling inside his stomach, Dean gave in to the welcoming smell of beef and took a large bite, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and chewing slowly, seemingly afraid that if he are too fast, he'd bring it back up again at the thought of his dad.

Sam slowly sipped his milkshake through the straw and held two trembling hands on his lap under the table, Bobby kept glancing at them both anxiously, waiting for one of them to snap. His eyes were wide with worry and bags stood out obviously from under his eyes, the news had made him tired and the driving wasn't helping.

 

They reached a small forest with a dirt track in a matter of hours, Bobby turned off the engine and climbed out, leaving two confused teenage boys in the back seats.

"Where have you taken us, Bobby?" Sam asked after a few moments had passed.

"You're gonna need to get out here. Don't wanna make it obvious we're here y'no, in case them unwanted visitors are still around." Bobby's eyes closed slightly and he glanced from side to side before beckoning for Sam and Dean to follow him.

At the thought of the people who had harmed his father, the people that could be right next to them at that exact moment, mocking them, Dean's blood turned boiling hot and he clenched two fists together so violently that they cracked.

As Bobby strode along in front, Sam waited for his elder brother and wrapped two arms around him, gently pecking a kiss on his forehead before turning back and running to catch up with Bobby.

That hadn't been something Sam had done to try and get Dean going, he thought to himself as he walked along behind them both, he was trying to tell Dean not to worry. It hadn't worked, he was more fucking worried than he'd ever been before. And he could tell Sam was aching with the same feeling just as he was.

And as they neared a house with smashed windows, a haunting strain of dried blood on the front porch, Sam and Dean both breathed in deeply in unison and followed Bobby who was walking more warily now.

They prepared themselves with the fact that inside this house, their father was slowly dying. And they were about to go and say their last goodbyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, some people thought that Sam was not going to mind about his father's experience because of how he expressed it. I played on that with this chapter and showed that no matter how much the two didn't seem to see eye to eye, it was hard for Sam to show how he really felt about the whole situation.
> 
> Thank you guys for the positive reaction!  
> Kudos and comments appreciated! :)


	9. Please Be Careful Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house is empty inside after Bobby checks it over, but what will Dean find at a second glance?

Bobby's hand moved to the small handgun tucked away in his pocket and he put a hand up, motioning for the boys to stay behind him and not enter the house until he deemed it safe enough.

"You be careful now, Bobby." Dean growled, his voice low and serious. If it was true, if what Bobby had told them about their father was true, Bobby was the only one that they'd have left. And he couldn't risk loosing him too. It wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

Walking to the front door with much caution, Bobby pursed his lips at the sight of the browning blood and used his foot to kick the door open. It made no noise as it swiftly moved from ajar to off its hinges, only banging gently against the wall inside, doing no damage.

Not that the house needed anymore damage inflicted upon it. The walls looked like something had used long claws to scratch away most of the wallpaper and there was blood splattered, well, everywhere.

Bobby swiftly checked the first three rooms and ran up the stairs with the gun pulled out in front of him, checking that he and the boys would be alone before risking their lives and bringing them inside.

 

Sam dug his feet into the muddy ground beneath him and sighed, looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye and feeling a blow to his chest that almost took his breath away.

Dean looked so done, he looked like he was wishing every breath he took to be his last; and that seriously hurt Sam.

Seeing his brother so down and depressed was enough to tip him over the edge, and that wasn't including the fact that their father could be dying inside at this very minute. Right under their noses, muttering his last words as he closed his eyes for the last time and welcomed death with open arms.

 

Shaking his head at such thoughts, Sam looked up and saw Bobby walking over shards of glass that had fallen from the windows as he reached the door once again.

"Well, what can I say boys. I've looked absolutely everywhere. There ain't no sign of your pap. Well, there ain't no sign of anythin' in fact. The place is completely empty. Trashed, but completely empty. You can come look for yourselves if you don't believe me." Bobby's voice was thick with confusion and he scratched his head thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the trees and the leave-carpeted floor around them.

"I'm gonna go and have a look." Dean stopped for a second as he saw the flash of worry streak across Sam's face. "Don't worry though, I'll be real careful."

Sam sighed quietly and shook his head, he'd already felt enough pain today and didn't need anymore. If anything happened to Dean, well, Sam didn't know what he'd do. The only thing that seemed reasonable to him would be to take his own life and hope that in doing so, they'd meet again. To Sam, that was his only option.

Dean gently wrapped an arm around his brother reassuringly, who pulled him round even further into a large bear-like hug that lasted for well over than a minute,

"You gotta let go Sammy.' Dean whispered quietly, stroking his brother's hair and trying not to look at Bobby, what would he think from the two boy's odd behaviour?

"Please be careful Dean." Sam whispered, pulling away and looking at his brother with so much pleading and terror in his eyes that it made Dean's heart ache, " _please_."

He nodded once, letting go of Sam slowly and taking his own gun out, making sure the small knife he kept in the back of his belt was secure, he walked past Bobby, who thumped him on the back for good luck and carried on.

 

Past the drying blood, past the shards of glass, past the smashed light bulb that lay shattered on the cream coloured carpet. Past the white walls that were covered in pictures, some with smashed frames, some with a haunting splash of crimson blood to make the place ten times fucking creepier.

"It's nine kinds of weird in here..." Dean whispered to himself, gripping the gun tighter as he walked the halls. Not realising how much he sounded like Bobby.

And he soon reached the back of the house, the kitchen with the brown tiles and all the usual. A table, cupboards, a fridge and so on.

Behind were three untouched windows, their glass as shiny as any and a garden that lay beyond. And, tucked behind that, a small battered-looking shed. Had Bobby checked it?

Dean wasn't sure, he hadn't taken as long as it could have to have scanned the whole house and then the garden too. Dean's instincts told him to turn back and alert the others, make them come and check it out with him.

But John could be in there, and Dean didn't want to risk any unnecessary pain on his father, if that was possible.

 

"The boy has arrived." A deep, husky, cold voice sounded from the shadows. Watching silently as a tall boy with piercing green eyes and light brown hair stood in the doorway, leading into the large garden.

"Is he alone?" A slightly higher pitched voice asked from the corner of the room.

The other nodded to confirm, watching the boy more closely as he jumped the steps and slowly, very warily, walked towards the building in which he and the other were standing.

John made a muffled shouting noise, his eyes wide with terror as he realised one of his son's had fallen into the trap and had arrived to save him; the thick layers of duct tape over his mouth disabling him for shouting for his son to keep back.

The larger man revealed himself from the shadows and took a hand, using the back of it to smash it hard against John's cheek who gasped from the sudden pain.

Bending down slightly, ignoring the searing pain in his knees that he had developed in his early years of hunting, the man was eye level with John Winchester.

"If you don't shut that fucking mouth of yours, I'll get my friend here to shut it for you. _Permanently_." The man's breath smelt of cigarettes and black coffee, John's nostrils flared as the burning sensation in his left cheek subsided slightly.

 

When he had found out who it was that was inflicting this pain on him, his blood had gone cold.

For John had known these two men, and trusted them deeply. Hell, he would have left the two boys in their care if he had really needed to.

When they had had him tied to that god damn chair in the middle of the living room, he hadn't recognised the balding man; he was so hurt and his mind so fucked up that even if he had, it probably wouldn't have registered.

But no, he knew these men. The only thing was, John Winchester didn't know if he'd live long enough to find out why they were doing this.


	10. Like The Small Child He Never Got The Chance To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds John, tied and bound in the shed at the bottom of the garden, but is he alone?

The only sound in the wooden shed was that of the heavy breathing that escaped John's trapped mouth.

Tears formed in his eyes and they stung like hell. He blinked hard a couple of times and felt them dripping slowly down and washing out on the grey duct tape.

"Ah look, Fred." The unknown man spoke, "He's _crying_." The man laughed loudly, almost cackled and lit a cigarette.

Fred, (John's thoughts had been correct, this was in fact, Fredrick J. Martin. A close friend of John's, or so he had thought) told his friend to shut the fuck up, in even harsher words and carried on watching Dean out of the window intently.

He was closing in, even from this distance, Fred could see the boy.

"He's getting closer." The smile in Fred's voice was visible and he revealed yellowing teeth that glinted in the darkness of the shed, the afternoon light shining down in random spots of the wood, plunging them into darkness every now and then.

John whimpered once more, so quietly that it was almost silent. His head was hurting so much, he could feel the sticky, oozing blood beginning to run once again and if what Fredrick and the other had said about him, apparently they'd beat the shit out of him so much that some of his skull had come through the skin.

 

A slight breeze blew over the trees in the garden, the shed was quite intimidating for such a small, run-down looking building.

Dean's hands were shaking like hell, it was starting to irritate him. Stopping in his tracks and glancing back at the door for a few long seconds, he sighed, maybe he should go back and warn the others. He didn't know what danger he was letting himself into.

Sighing and rubbing his forehead, trying to ignore the growing headache that was surging around his temples and making it hard for him to concentrate, Dean carried on up the path.

A small door with a rusting metal handle stood in front of him, Dean's hand was itching to open it. He held it out, hovering it just above the handle and he tutted, annoyed at how jumpy he had become.

"Here goes nothing." Dean muttered, brushing his tongue along his lips as he always did, (he had his habits just as much as Sam had his) and put a firm hand down on the door.

But, instead of opening, Dean pressed an ear on the door and listened. Was that the sound of breathing he could hear? At the end of the day, it had been a long morning and he'd just found out some shitty news about his dad, maybe he was hearing stuff.

So, moving backwards and mirroring Bobby's movements from a few minutes before, god, that seemed ages before these long, intense moments in the garden.

He used the bottom of his boot to kick the door gently, listening to it creak so loudly and echo around the wood inside that Dean flinched, waiting for something to happen.

As the light shone down from the outside and swept the shadows away, Dean's breath caught in his throat and he coughed quietly.

"Dad...?" He whispered, his eyes wide with a certain fear mixed with something else, sympathy maybe? It flashed across quickly and disappeared before he himself could register it.

John's eyes widened and he shook his head violently, moving around on the chair he was tied to as it scraped loudly across the wooden planked floor.

Confusion swarmed Dean's thoughts. John didn't look relieved, scared even? And Dean took a smaller step forward. John's whimpers sounded louder and Dean was concerned.

Well, more concerned than he had been when he saw his father's head with new and dried blood staining it, even the small glimpse of dirty bone sticking out just above his eyebrow. One black eye, his nose so obviously broken that Dean's face hurt just looking at it.

Dean crossed the threshold of the shed, the sudden smell of metallic-like blood and mouldy water filled his nostrils and he flinched, it fucking stank in there.

He walked forward, nearing his father by the second. An arm outstretched to reassure his Father.

 

And before he could register that he could be in more danger than he had anticipated, he turned to check and felt a blow that was unspeakably painful smash him right in the nose, the world going silent and the only sound that of his crunching bones.

John stared down at his son, if he had been able to move his mouth, it would be wide open in shock, tears spilling down his nose and falling into the crevice of his Cupid's bow.

Dean lay on the floor, sprawled out in an uncomfortable-looking position that made John want to run to him, scoop him up and cradle him like the small child he never got the chance to be.

His nose was already purple, dark blood pumping out and dripping down the side of his face.

But Fred and his bastard friend weren't quite done yet. Shutting the shed door behind them and bolting it from the inside, turning on a small fluorescent bulb, the kind that gave John migraines, standing over his son and smiling so creepily it made his skin crawl.

"What to do now?" The other man murmured, "What to do..?"

Fredrick put a bony finger on his crooked mouth and smiled ever so slightly.

Lifting one of his legs and smashing his foot against Dean's ribs.

Although he had been taken into a semi-conscious state, Dean moaned loudly with pain and huddled into a small ball. His face lined with all kinds of discomfort.


	11. Meeting Up With Old Family Friends, Or Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Bobby go to check in Dean.  
> Dean finds out who has been hurting him and his dad, and some terrible news too.

"How long has he been?" Sam muttered his face flustered as he tried to look through the broken windows to see if he could find Dean.

"I ain't sure. Longer than I was hopin' though." Bobby turned the situation over in his head before sighing and continuing "Come on kid."

Sam took out his own gun in trembling fingertips and followed Bobby through the front door and into the different rooms where Bobby scanned with much more precision.

"Could you have missed something that Dean saw?" Sam bit his lip anxiously, his heart starting to beat violently against his chest at the thought of loosing Dean. He couldn't loose Dean. Not now. Not ever.

"Maybe, I'm not sure. Be a hand and go check around the back of the house, 'kay?" Bobby told Sam, leaning over his shoulder as he scooped up another picture off the floor.

Sam nodded lightly and padded off along the room. The only sound in the air was that of the heavy breathing that came from the youngest Winchester.

It wasn't so much a fear of finding a monster, hell, he'd hunted with his father before and seen enough of them to not be at all afraid. It was the fear of finding his brother, in the way Bobby had explained their father.

So hurt that he might be looking at the world for the last time and sighing. Not getting the chance to go with his brother beside him.

Sam shook his head and grunted low, don't cry, he told himself. Not at this point.

~

Dean's eyes flickered open and then quickly shut again. The growing pain in his head spreading and making it almost unbearable to leave them open.

Sighing deeply and trying to get as much air in as possible. Dean found it almost impossible to catch the amount of breath he felt he needed. His whole body hurt. Every single bone, every single muscle. Everything was aching.

Dean's hands were tied together and to the hard wood of the chair so tightly that it felt that even the bounds were about to cut some of his limbs off.

"Dad?" He whispered, his voice cracking in his throat as he spoke. Hell, this pain was almost unbearable.

Only being nineteen, Dean hadn't really been introduced into the side of the hunting world that his father often found himself in. He'd been on a lot of hunts, but they were never the real dangerous stuff that John tended to take on for himself or with the help of a fellow hunter.

Dean had never had the chance to experience shit like this and actually know how to get out of it.

There was no reply, just a silence that was so loud that it almost rung out in his ears; making Dean want to cry and scream at the same time.

 

Then the sound of footsteps and a door sliding open, this time sounding more sturdy than the one he had kicked through earlier to rescue his father.

Out of nowhere, three large fluorescent light strips were flicked on and plunged Dean into more pain than he had been seconds before, his eyes feeling as though they were melting into his face.

After blinking so much that he felt dizzy, Dean's eyes started to adjust and he slowly looked away from the carpeted floor and up and two men that stood before him.

One of them, the taller one with a blading head, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, almost grey skin and a large metal club in his hands, stood and smiled at Dean; all of his yellowing teeth protruding their cover and making the Winchester boy secretly grimace.

"Recognise me?" He asked, playing on the fact that he could easily see Dean trying to work out how he knew the man. Behind him, his friend chuckled softly, making the situation a whole less scarier. So, rolling his eyes as though this was just what he did when people annoyed him, he picked up his arms and swung the bat round, smashing his friend hard in the face. Dean stared on in horror.

"Now," The man started, looking around the room and taking a small chair from the corner before dragging it across the stained carpet and placing it beside Dean, who's skin crawled at the thought of being near someone like him. "If that's the sort of thing I do to one of my friends, you'd _hate_ to see what I do to my enemies."

Who was this man? Dean's mind was turning over and over and over trying to figure out how he knew him.

A demon, perhaps? No, couldn't be. If it had been a demon, John would have planted some secret trap somewhere and killed the bastards before they had gotten to him.

Dean pushed his tongue across his bottom lip and glanced quickly at the man before turning back, trying to take in everything about him to see if it triggered any memories.

"Looks like your stuck." He stopped and chewed on the end of the burnt out cigarette that hung loosely in the corner of his thin mouth. "Frederick J. Martin at your service." And the man put a wrinkled hand out for Dean to shake before shuddering with laughter at the thought of his hands bound behind his back.

Oh god.

Dean might not have recognised his face or voice, but he sure recognised that name. His father had talked of him often when he'd been out hunting something or other. Hell, I think John might have helped this man on multiple hunts in the past.

"Why are you doing this?" Dean's voice was hard with anger now, still low and weak at the constant taste of blood and his swollen gums from where he had presumably bitten down in his unconscious state.

Fredrick spat out the cigarette and closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. He fingered the bat in his hands and turned back to the boy, his eyes clouded over with a certain anger than made Dean shiver.

"Did I say" he stopped to breathe in deeply, clearly very,very pissed off. "that you could talk?" And he stood up, smashing the bat into his own palm before pulling it high in the air and letting it come crashing against the side of Dean's cheekbone.

The only sounds were that of the small whimper that escaped Dean's dry lips, and the crack of his bones as metal touched flesh, hard.

Fredrick's face softened again, a tear of nothing more than anger slid from the corner of Dean's bright green eye and splashed onto his jacket.

"Now, I got some news I'm gonna have to break to you." Fredrick put two hands together and cracked his knuckles loudly, before doing the same with his neck and then yawning as though he was about to tell Dean that he'd taken his favourite colouring pencil away.

"What?" Dean asked in a flat tone, fully regretting his choice of speaking as soon as he did, waiting for more metal to hit and break more bones.

It was hurting Dean to blink now, he wanted desperately just to keep his eyes closed but knew that if he did that, Fredrick would only do something worse.

"Let's just say, well, Daddy dearest didn't quite make it through the little acid challenge me and Bertie had for him.' And Fred motioned to his friend who was currently out cold on the floor after being hit square on the nose minutes before.

The news hit Dean like a freight train. What the fuck was wrong with these people? And after all that, after being captured and hurt just as much as his dad had been, to find out he was dead. In the most undignified way.

And Dean screamed then, not a scream of anguish and sorrow. But such an angry scream that Fredrick did all he could to hide the look of worry that flashed across his wrinkled face.


	12. All Quite Enjoyable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby rings his friends to help find the two missing Winchesters, John and Dean.

"Son, I can't find that brother of yours anywhere. And we ain't gonna be much help by just sittin' back and prayin' that your brother's gonna come back to us any minute. Cos I think that you and me both know somethin's happened." Bobby paused and bit his lip, his eyes narrowed as he thought, turning the situation over in his mind. "We go back to mine. I'm gonna contact a few friends. Tell 'em that your brother and pap are missin'. I let Rufus know and then we can wait, or help, whatever suits you."

Sam frowned, his forehead crinkling up and his eyes misted over with a pain that told Bobby how hard it would be for him to just simply leave.

Bobby knew that them Winchester boys had some sort of connection, but he'd never seen two siblings so inseparable in his whole life before.

~

Dean awoke with a start as cold beads of sweat ran down his forehead and the pulsing of his own heart sounded almost deafening.

He breathed in a couple of times until he was able to look around and see where they had left him in this time. It was almost pitch black in the room.

Dean could make out this and that but nothing that stood out as familiar or of any use. Overall, Dean felt more trapped than he had when they had taken him the day before. God, had that only been a day ago? To Dean, that felt more than a fucking lifetime.

Licking his lips and sliding it back in his mouth, frowning at how dry and cracked his mouth had become over the course of not even twenty-four hours; Dean shook his head and tried, with a lot of effort, to loosen the restraints that held him down once again.

From what he could feel, this was a complicated knot that Fredrick and his friend Bertie, (Dean didn't know who Bertie was, not a hunter his father had talked of or someone who stood out as particularly important) had managed to do when he had been out cold the day before.

Dean must have been semi-conscious for the whole series of events, if it hadn't been a blow in the face, it was a surge of electrical pulses that Fredrick took delight in placing just below his brain so that the pain was unbearable but not deadly.

Now, whenever Dean blinked or tried to move his face, a searing pain worse than he had ever encountered before took over and he had to bite the inside of his mouth hard to stop himself from screaming.

~

Bobby pulled the key out of the ignition and sidled out of the truck once again, Sam doing the same as they both walked up to his front door, Bobby with the set of keys in his grasp and Sam with his hands tucked deep in his pockets.

There was too much going on for any of this to be awkward. Sam was so worried that he constantly felt physically sick and had had to tell Bobby to stop a couple of times on the highway so that he could produce the bile that had been growing inside of him since Dean entered the house by himself.

Not that he hadn't been worried before, of course he was worried about his father; but when it came down to them both missing, Sam couldn't stand the pain.

As soon as Bobby had thrown his coat in the corner and opened up his notebook with all the phone numbers in he could ever need if there was any trouble, he took down a bottle of bourbon from the shelf and drunk straight from the bottle.

Even for Bobby this was unusual, Sam could see in his eyes that even _he_ was unsure about the situation. Usually when either of the Winchester boys were on a hunt with Singer and had problems, he'd figure a way to fix them. This time he didn't look so sure at all.

"Hi, is that Rufus?" Bobby waited a couple of seconds whilst Rufus spoke down the phone on the other end of the line, Bobby took another large swig of the drink before placing the glass bottle on the table.

After calling over thirty hunters, having the same conversation with each of them as he explained the circumstances, Bobby flicked to the last page of the notebook and eyed the words on there before pressing the numbers and waiting while it dialled.

"Hello, is that Fredrick?"

Sam closed his eyes slightly, taking a large breath and then sighing so sadly that it made him want to burst into tears. He couldn't cope with loosing them both, not at the same time and not ever. It would literally break him. He thought about how different it would be if Dean was in the situation instead of him; at least he'd have Bobby to talk to.

Sam and Bobby weren't unfriendly towards each other, they just didn't know how to communicate as well as the older Winchester and Singer found themselves talking.

~

Fredrick scribbled down notes in the battered old journal he'd had for so many years that, he couldn't even remember buying it. Well, he'd probably stolen it at the time but that wasn't the point.

Just as he was about to describe in heavy detail, the events of the torture session he had just endured with non other than John Winchester's son himself, Dean, the phone rung loudly in the corner and he tore his eyes away from the page. Sighing in an irritated fashion, he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and reached for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello is that Fredrick?" Came a familiar southern drawl from the other end, Fredrick's thin, lined mouth curled up into a sinister grin.

"The one and only." He replied, lighting the end of the cigarette and inhaling deeply. "What do you _want_ , Robert?"

"It's John. He went missing almost a week and a half ago. Rufus was set to go and find him and we found the house that we believed he'd been hurt in. When we got there, well, he weren't there. So Dean went in to look for himself and disappeared without a trace just like his daddy. I've been ringing up hunters for almost two hours, they've all agreed to come down and help us find them." Bobby stopped talking and sighed, Fredrick could hear the pain in his voice.

"Oh no." He started, trying so hard not to laugh that it was actually hurting him. "Well, I'll be down there _right_ away. I've got some unfinished business to sort out but I can leave that to my friend, Bertie." And with that, Fredrick put the phone back in the stand and stood for a few seconds, smoking and enjoying the pain that was transmitting from his hands and to the people who loved John and Dean.

It was all quite enjoyable.


	13. All Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie takes advantage of Dean when Fredrick leaves for Bobby's house

Dean sat and stared at the floor, his eyes unblinking and him mind on the brink of breakdown.

This had been enough. He didn't think that he could handle any of this for much longer. Fredrick had some kind of twisted device attached to the ceiling that opened every ten minutes that leaked tiny droplets of the strong acid that the hunter had used to kill his father.

Dean hadn't had much time to think about that. His father dying. So much shit had happened between him finding out the news and what was happening now.

And whenever the thought of his father flashed into his mind, he was sprinkled with the acid again and set into a series of different volumes of pain that he screamed the highest pitch scream that had ever left his mouth and left him wondering if that tiny, tiny noise had ever escaped him. Dean. Dean wasn't the sort to scream. But even the strongest couldn't handle this.

Feeling the liquid burn into his skin as he closed his eyes and clenched his fists tightly in their ropes, Dean felt an angry tear slide out of his eye and he quickly snapped his mouth shut so none of the acid reached his lips and killed him.

The room had brightened up from his earlier wakening and now Dean could make out what sort of place he held been taken to and kept prisoner in.

It was a long room, bright lights on overhead and tiny holes in the ceiling that created the utmost pain.

There was a set of metal doors that stood square at he end and from what Dean could see, something that made his skin crawl, was something that looked like small grates that Fredrick had told him he sometimes filled with poisonous gas, just to make him and his friend laugh.

 

A button was pressed somewhere on the outside of the room and Dean was plunged into complete darkness, he could almost feel his pupils popping in his eyes.

"Hello?" Dean asked gruffly, he didn't even give a fuck that it was probably one of his torturers, maybe if they kept coming in, Dean would find a weak spot and plan a route of escape or a plot to attack. "Who's there?"

He growled angrily waiting for someone to reveal themselves. There was the sound of bolts moving and something that sounded like a metal chain scraping against something else made of the same material and then a creak, the door slid open ever so slightly.

Dean stared into the darkness to see if he could make out who was there, his heart sunk when he heard the familiar low laugh of Fredrick's friend that was all too familiar to his ears.

"What's a pretty little boy like you doin' in a place like this?" His voice was low and something in it made Dean's skin crawl.

He remembered the first time he had awoken after they had first captured him, before he had found out that his father was dead, and how strange this man had been acting and looking at him.

Fredrick had pulled him to the side, eventually resulting in him punching his friend in the face. Something told Dean that Fredrick was doing this for a reason and that reason wasn't for his friend to get he chance to perv over their next victim.

Dean gulped and spoke up finally: "You _tied_ me up here dude, didn't have much choice."

He laughed that low, cruel sound again and walked back to the door, the metal heels of his shoes clinking against the shiny surface. Once again, the lights were switched on and confused Dean's eyes just a little more. It was fucking him up badly being like this, not that it would be doing any good to anyone, but he just felt like giving up at this point.

"Hm, I don't really like your tone of voice." The man scratched his chin and eyed Dean for a second.

Bertie, (Dean had finally remembered the man's name) licked his lips, not in the way Dean did as a nervous habit, but in a way that made Dean want to throw up in his mouth. "And for that" Bertie stopped and grinned with so many black teeth and the reveal of infected gums, "I'm going to put you in your place."

Dean hissed under his breath and spat on the floor beside him, waiting to be hit in the face or something.

'You know, when Freddie told me we were going to take John, and then you. Yeah, you didn't think we'd planned all of this out so precisely, did you?" Bertie stopped as though he was expecting Dean to answer. "I told him that we shouldn't have gotten to you in a violent way. I mean, I had many, many better ideas. A lot of good ideas, in fact. And now that Fredrick's gone to your Uncle Bobby's house to meet that gorgeous little brother of yours, I might be able to help with a different type of torture."

Dean was physically sick from the thought of Fredrick, that fucking creep that was slowly killing him and who'd managed to kill off their father only days before, being within walking distance of his Sammy.

It was all too much.

"If that good-for-nothing bastard goes anywhere near my brother then I'll take it upon myself to personally _kill him_ when I get out of here." Dean's voice was layered with so much anger and honesty that Bertie was a little taken aback, although of course he didn't show it.

"Oh _Dean_ , Fredrick's gonna be all sidled up with your Sam, pretending to help look for you and your dad. Oh yeah, Freddie's pretending he doesn't know _anything_. He still thinks that John is alive and well somewhere, maybe not so well but..." Bertie cracked his fingers and laughed, throwing his head back and then turning the not-so-happy sounds into a choking fit of disgusting sounding coughing that made Dean want to produce vomit once again.

"So now" Bertie walked closer to the nineteen year old boy and stared at him so intently that it made him want to close his eyes and never open them again.

"I'm going to show you what I was going to do if I had gotten it _my_ way." One of the strangest noises Dean had ever heard escaped from Bertie's lips, something that bordered between lust and pleasure.

Dean was half praying that a whole fucking bucket load of acid would drop down on him and out him out of his misery.

All he wanted was Sam. He wanted to comfort his baby brother, snatch him away from the bad that had entered Bobby's home and pretended to help. He wanted to take him somewhere remote so he could kiss him until he cried. Dean wanted to be anywhere with his Sammy than here with this man that had some twisted idea in his head that Dean was actually going to do anything with him.

"From the look on your face, I think that you have forgotten that you have literally _no_ choice in the matter what so ever." Bertie was so close to Dean that he  could feel his warm breath on him and it made the hairs on the back of his neck raise instantly.

Bertie picked up a large, dirty finger and brushed it lightly across Dean's cheek.

Once again, Dean spat with disgust and this time it landed on Bertie's calloused hand. He picked it up in anger and smashed it across Dean's cheek before stroking his face once again.

Dean's body grew rigid and he sat, face as still as stone and body so tense that if someone had poked him hard enough, he might have snapped.

And then, out of nowhere and totally and utterly disgustingly, Bertie bent down and placed his face so near Dean's that he could actually smell the sweat.

He closed the space in between them with a kiss and Dean retched and gagged whilst he fought the binds at his wrists and tried desperately to escape.


	14. It Was All A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fredrick arrives at Bobby's house, Bertie gets even more twisted and Sam dreams something heartbreakingly happy about his brother.

Bobby walked through the crowds of hunters that had gathered in his dark living room and glanced at Sam, who was sitting on his own in the corner, his hands tucked away in his lap.

"Alright son?" Bobby asked gruffly, placing a hand on the young boy's shoulder and smiling so sympathetically that it physically hurt.

Sam nodded so gently and then quickly changed the gesture to a shake, tears spurting angrily from his eyes as he thought too much about the position his father and brother were in.

~

Tyres sounded against gravel and dust lifted from the road. Fredrick stubbed out the end of his cigarette in the ash tray that he had built into his car and coughed loudly.

Smoking wasn't doing his lugs too much justice, and Fredrick wasn't a stupid man. Of course he knew smoking wasn't a little spring break for the old insides but, it cleared his mind.

Fredrick moved the rear view mirror downwards and slicked the back of his hair down, the grey streaks lighting up in the darkness of his old Chevy.

He slammed the door shut and stomped towards the front door, thinking over and over in his head of how he would act.

Of course, Fredrick was used to these kind of situations and knew how to play it. He knocked twice, hard. And waited for a reply. Checking himself over in the reflection of the dirty window and hearijg the sounds of loud talking from inside and the sounds of footsteps that led to the other side of the door; unlocking and the creaking sounds of the old wood that held it closed, he braced himself.

"Fred." Bobby sighed and a small smile crept across his face and something that looked like relief.

Bobby knew that all of the hunters he'd known, past and present, were here to help. It was good to have some kind of hope when everything had turned so terribly dark.

~

Dean shivered in the cold of the empty room he had been sat in for what had seemed like five days straight, and because Dean had no sense of time, it could just as well have been that long.

Thinking about the events of the earlier hours of the day, Dean forced back the sick that surged from his stomach and landed straight in his throat, making him feel dizzy and his eyes roll around in his head.

It had been fucking terrible. One of the worst things that had ever happened to him.

Bertie had untied him, after he had attached two wires to Dean's arms that surged through electrical currents that sent Dean into a series of spasms.

After he felt that Dean wouldn't be able to move without feeling that unbearable pain, he simply broke both of his arms by taking that all-too familiar metal bat and smashing them repeatedly in the same place on both arms before Dean couldn't help but howl at the indescribably, horrific pain that he kept experiencing, over and over again.

The events that followed were so sickening to even remember or think about that Dean wanted to cry out with a certain shame that he'd never want to look at his Sammy in the eyes again.

And god, if his father had still been alive, he would never have been able to tell him the truth.

Bertie had spoken to him in a soft voice, but it had not soothed any of the pain and disgust that was surging through the older Winchester brother's body and wanting to spill out from every hole, every pore.

Bertie had kissed him. Kissed him so long that Dean had felt death would have been a better option than to carry on the dreadful events that were taking place at that moment.

Hell, he would have welcomed a Wendigo with open arms instead of being within talking distance of this dirty bastard.

~

Trudging up the stairs, Sam sighed and smudged another tear from the bottom of his eye and let it dissolve into his warm skin. He couldn't stand being downstairs with them all.

The conversational topic was if Dean was still alive, and if he was, by some miracle, it was certainly a wonder he should be.

It was making Sam feel physically sick.

Opening the bedroom door and entering the room that he had seemingly adopted over the past couple of weeks, Sam slammed it back behind him again and bolted the door.

If he wanted some sleep, then he would have to lock it. He didn't want any hunters coming in and disturbing his slumber.

Staring at himself with a look of full hatred in the small mirror that hung on the wall with the peeling paint, Sam bit his lip and let his nostrils flare angrily.

Even looking at himself made him think of his family. He was so used to Dean being near. It even helped knowing that his father could be somewhere, helping people live their lives without the shitty supernatural that cursed everyone.

 

Sam pulled off his t shirt and flung it to the floor beside him, drawing the thick, black curtains and throwing himself down in the large double bed that stood in the middle of the room and listening to the sound of his own breathing.

He fell asleep after ten minutes of painful thinking. Wondering if he would ever see his father again, wondering what was the last word he spoke to him.

All Sam could remember were the fights that were never as one-sided as he used to think.

Now that he was really thinking about it, Sam found out that he was just as much to blame for the bickering as his father was. And of Dean, oh sweet Dean. Where was he?

Sam fell into a deep sleep and pulled himself further under the blankets, signing softly like a small child and nestling his head into the thick, plush pillows. He dreamed instantly.

 

_He was with Dean,_ (if anyone had been watching him sleep, they would have seen the wave of pain cross his face before something that was so much more than just 'happy' that you couldn't describe it) _they were running through a forest._

_Not in a scared way, or in a way that signified they were either being chased, or they were chasing something._

_Dean was smiling and sprinting along in front, a smug look etched across his beautiful face as Sam tried hard to catch up with him._

_"Come on Sammy!" Dean started breathlessly "I'm gonna have to teach you to go faster if you don't hurry up!"_

_And then Dean stopped running and burst into fits of laughter._

_Sam slowed down too and breathed in deeply before turning and smiling so sweetly at that brother of his that it even pained him in his dream world, not as much as it would in reality but, almost to that extent._

_"Dean..." Sam had whispered, reaching out for something but in return watching Dean quiet him down and gently place a soft, warm hand on his own._

_"You don't need to use words, Sammy." Dean grunted quietly, smiling so sweetly that Sam's heart seemingly melted inside of him._

_Then, totally unexpectedly and so beautifully, Dean pulled his baby brother into a long kiss._

_Their lips sealed tightly together and both of their tongues gently flicking against the other's mouth, seemingly competing with the other to win some sort of prize._

_Sam moved a hand down and touched Dean's chest, listening to his soft grunt before carrying on._

 

Things got into the same routine as they had done one of the last nights that Sam had seen Dean, they had kissed for what seemed an age and had thoroughly enjoyed it. Sam had forgotten it was a dream.

 

Waking with a start, Sam felt the cold beads of sweet line his forehead and drip down, catching in his furrowed brows.

It had been a dream. A stupid fucking dream that had come to such an abrupt end that it had fucked Sam up.

He didn't know what time of day it was, if he was awake or what he was doing in Bobby's spare bedroom.

When he had gathered his thoughts, Sammy felt that searing pain enter his body again as he realised his Dean was no longer laying next to him, asleep and snoring peacefully and quietly every now and then.


	15. The Winchesters Would Be Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie spills some news to Dean and Fredrick meets Sam for the first time

Dean lay there on the cold floor and thought about giving up. _Really_ giving up. He couldn't move, it took all the strength he owned in his body not to fall unconscious every two seconds and the memories of the last couple of days were slowly eating away at him.

His left knee cap was broken, both of his arms in different places, he didn't know for sure but something had happened to his ribs, and overall, he couldn't put up with this shit much longer.

He knew that when Fredrick came back, he would probably kill him. Not because he had inconvenienced them but simply because they'd had enough of him not screaming the way they wanted, not begging for mercy.

Because whenever those two bastards were doing whatever they were doing to Dean, he switched his mind off. Thought of Sammy, thought of the way he smiled when Dean held him. Snuggling up to his warm body as he slept and making cute noises as slumber enveloped him. Dean would try his hardest to ignore the different amounts of pain inflicted on him by the two men.

At first, it was very difficult. He would find himself in even more discomfort if he thought of Sammy whilst they were doing that to him. Purely because he was so caught up in the world inside of his head that he forgot he was down on earth, being tortured by the men that killed his father and had pretended to be his close friends for years.

 

With his arms sprawled out in odd angles, Dean gulped, it had been such a long time since he had had a proper glass of water, and thinking about it now was making his head hurt and his mouth dry out.

Bertie would come in and say the only way he'd be able to drink some water and eat some food if he didn't something for him.

At first, Dean had replied gruffly and told him that he wouldn't be doing anything in a long fucking time because the bastard had broken both of his arms.

But, that hadn't ended very well, Bertie got even more pissed with him and kicked him in the stomach so many times that Dean couldn't breathe anymore.

Of course, Bertie or Fredrick would never hurt him to the point where he did eventually die, they would wait until the time was right and then find some new and exotic way to take down the next Winchester.

 

The door by the other side of the room was opened, Dean's eyelids stayed tightly shut, hoping that if he pretended to be out then they would leave him alone.

Bertie trudged across the floor, the bottom of his boots touching the ground, the metal echoing around the small space that had seemingly become Dean's new, shitty home.

"I've got some news." Bertie stated, kicking Dean once in the side of the head, he knew that he wasn't unconscious and it was just so much more fun than just talking.

Dean bit his lip and let anger cloud over him, when he got out of here, well, if he did. Then he would kill these fucking douches and not even think twice about it. The men that killed his father would pay.

"Fredrick's gone to Bobby's house." Bertie stopped and smirked at the look on Dean's face, an expression of pure horror. Of course Bertie knew what he was thinking, Dean knew that Sammy was now in danger.

"And do you know what he's gonna do?" Bertie pulled over a chair from the corner and placed himself on it, beads of sweet forming on his forehead and glistening under the man made light that shone so brightly above them that Dean very rarely chose to open his eyes at all in this room.

"Fredrick's gonna take that little brother of yours." Dean let out a whimper from the thought of his brother, his beautiful little brother, being taken as he was and treated just as badly.

For some reason, it seemed so much worse than the thought of him in that position.

"And he's gonna bring him here. Take him in this room, put a gun to his head and shoot his brains out, _right_ in front of you. Then, we are both gonna kill you." There was silence for a few seconds as Dean felt the anger exploding from all over his body.

"And then there will be no Winchesters left. And what a good day that would be."

"Why are you trying to kill us off anyway?" Dean asked weakly, his voice cracking in his dry throat and making it extremely difficult for Dean to form words.

"You haven't realised yet?" Bertie's voice was actually full of a certain surprise that wasn't put on for effect just so that Dean would feel stupid.

Dean shook his head lightly and gasped from the pain. It seemed to rattle his insides and he couldn't quite his thoughts together for a few seconds.

"Fredrick wants you all gone. _Every_ last Winchester. And so far, he's making a pretty good job of it. With you on the way to the big pearly white gates of heaven, it's just your pretty little brother left over to deal with. And he can't wait."

There was a certain gleam in Bertie's eyes that made Dean's stomach churn with a mix of disgust and anger.

"Not Sammy..." Dean hissed under his breath over and over again, chanting with his eyes pressed tightly shut.

Hoping that if he did this, then he could forget everything that was happening.

"Then when you're gone" Bertie continued his earlier comments, "Fredrick will be top hunter again. No more risk of any of you douchebag Winchesters stealing the limelight. You know, you aren't the only hunters? There are men and women that are so much better at their job than you are."

And the words spilled out of Bertie as he actually revealed some sort of human emotion for once.

"But why Sammy and me? We haven't ever done anything to you." Dean coughed loudly and tasted blood in his mouth. This wasn't good.

"If you two are as good as your father is, I mean _was_ ," Dean winced at his last few words "then you would be a risk to Fredrick too. You're daddy was good, too good in fact. So we both figured you two would follow in his footsteps. So we needed to get rid of you."

Bertie spoke to Dean as though they were both healthy men who were sitting together in some coffee shop, gossiping about past events as though they hadn't seen each other in years. It was making Dean feel ill.

~

Sam pulled on a sweatshirt and stormed down the stairs again, saying hello to different people who acknowledged him as he passed.

Fake smiles were passed as Sam tried to hard the broken heart that was constantly breaking into more tiny pieces inside of him as he carried on living without his brother.

He could hear the sound of Bobby's voice travelling from the kitchen and meeting his ears as he stood at the bottom of the stairs.

Sam followed the sound and found Bobby, standing with a man he didn't quite recognise, a cup of coffee in their grips.

Bobby rubbed his mouth with his fingers and sighed, smiling at the younger Winchester and beckoning him over.

"This is Fredrick. He's one of the best of the best and, he's decided to help us find your brother and pap. That's good, right?" Bobby spoke softly as though Sammy was a five year old again.

Inside, Sam still felt as young and all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry and cry until there were no more tears left.

"It's a _pleasure_ to meet you Sam." The man pushed out a hand and took Sam's in his strong grip, his brown eyes staring deep into Sam's hazel with a fiery look.

There was something quite unnerving about this new hunter.

"Fredrick J. Martin?" Sam answered with a question, avoiding eye contact with the man because it was making him feel uneasy.

"I'm flattered." Fredrick pretended to blush and make the scenario a little less tense but it didn't help.

Sam just sighed and nodded slightly. He'd heard his dad talk of him sometimes, a hunt or two that John had been on with this man and it was a good thing that he recognised him and associated him with one of his missing members of the family.

Sam didn't really take much more notice of Fredrick who was standing drinking long swigs of coffee, staring at Sam over the brim of the cup and waiting, waiting for the right time when he would ask Sam if he wanted to come with him and help him on a lead he had with his brother.

Fredrick could almost feel the gun in his hands pressed against Sam's temple, and it felt exhilarating.

Just to know that the Winchesters would be gone.

Forever.


	16. He Couldn't Trust Fredrick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam decides to go and help Fredrick find Dean and John after he tells him that he might have found a lead

Fredrick put down the empty mug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, brushing his tongue along his lips and fingering the car keys in his pocket.

"Listen here Bobby." Fredrick spoke quietly, staring down at the wooden table in front of him.

"Yeah?" Bobby's voice was full with a certain sorrow that never ceased to annoy Fredrick. Soppy people made him feel queasy.

"I think I've got a lead on this Winchester case." Fredrick stopped a few seconds and rubbed his chin "And I think I'm onto something."

Bobby turned around, a flash of hope sliding across his face and an excited glint entering his eyes.

It took Fredrick everything he had not to laugh at him.

 

From the other side of the kitchen, Sam slammed down the tumbler full of water and stared at the man. If he had a lead, he wanted in on finding his brother.

 

Fredrick noticed the young boys sudden attention in the conversation and spoke louder than he had before, wanting Sam to listen and to be interested:

"Yeah that's right." Fredrick stopped and raised an eyebrow at the boy "I've got some connections and someone thinks there could be a potential sighting just outside North Carolina. I'd be happy to go and check it out with you if you wanted to, Sam." Fredrick smiled kindly at the boy and Sam didn't seem to notice that it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Bobby glanced up at the boy to see if he was listening. That was the good thing about hunters, once you had know them for a while, you could learn to trust them.

"I wanna come with you." Sam pursed his lips and glared determinedly at the two older men. If they said no, he'd make his own there.

He had to find Dean sometime soon.

~

Dean opened one eye and sighed softly, not wanting to breathe in too deeply and hurt his already injured ribs anymore than they already were.

He blinked a couple of times and very slowly twisted his head to the side to look out of the tinted windows.

From what he could see, it looked around midday. It was humid in the room and Dean could feel beads of cold sweat sliding from his forehead and nestling under his collar; making everything feel uncomfortable.

The flannel that he was wearing was drenched with a mixture of dried blood, fresh blood, water and sweat.

Where it had been baggy a few days ago before he had been captured, something comfortable that he could wear without any discomfort, now clung to his skin tightly and felt sticky with the crimson liquid that surged out of the new open wounds.

 

Every time Dean closed his eyes, he dreamt.

Deep, uncomfortable dreams that made his stomach churn and his eyes water.

This last time he had slept, he had dreamt of Sam.

He was riding in the back of Fredrick's truck, wearing one of Dean's shirts and he kept snuggling into it, every now and then inhaling his brother's scent.

Fredrick kept glancing at him in the mirror as he drove along the road. And in his lap sat a black, shining gun that Sammy was totally oblivious of.

Fredrick kept revealing his yellowing teeth in a hair-raising smile that even in his dream world, made Dean want to punch him so hard in the mouth that all of his teeth fell out and the blood pumped out of his thin lips.

The rest of his dream had turned into some kind of horrible blur and Dean had awoken with tears in his eyes that soon spilled down his cheeks and soothed his new wounds around his cheeks, eyes and chin.

 

The headaches that he was experiencing now were worse than he had ever encountered before.

Dean knew that soon enough, something or other was going to kill him, and he figured that these constant migraines were going to be the death of him.

 

There was a small basin of water at the side of the room with a leaking pipe that was almost mute to Dean after hearing it constantly for three days straight.

He had managed to drag himself over yesterday, a trail of blood sliding across the ground behind him and finishing as he slumped up against the china sink.

Dean had not been able to use his arms, they had stayed limp at his sides as he leant his head forward and winced loudly at the pain as he literally stuck his face into the lukewarm water.

He drank with difficulty and then used the rest to try and cleanse his wounds, which was difficult when he had no fingers to help.

Dean just tipped his face into the liquid with his eyes sealed tightly shut and prayed that it would help.

After that, he had gone over to one of the corners with his left leg vertical, the knee bone protruding the skin and causing so much constant pain that there was always a white flashing light clouding Dean's pupils.

Bertie would come in and throw some sort of food at him.

Usually it was something already half eaten, or something that nobody in their right mind would choose to eat unless they were a victim of famine.

He then had to eat so slowly that it tired him out. His jaw was so stiff that if he wanted to talk, he would have to bear the throbbing pain that came with it, and after all that, the food that Bertie usually gave him would upset his insides and Dean would just bring it all back up once again and feel ten times worse than he had before he'd eaten.

 

Dean felt a bead of sweat slide down his nose and halt in his Cupid's bow before seeping into his mouth.

"Sammy..." He whispered weakly, his face folding up into lines of creases as he thought of his innocent baby being tricked by the bastard who had killed their father and was sending himself on the same road.

Just the thought of the creep anywhere near his Sammy was enough to make him scream as loudly as humanly possible.

 

And oh how much that hurt. His throat already so dry it felt like glass, and now Dean could barely talk.

Sammy couldn't fall for the trap.

He had to realise that he couldn't trust Fredrick before everything went wrong.

 


	17. Wish You Were Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Fredrick hit the road, Fredrick's plan begins to unfold

Sam walked across the gravelly path and halted before a truck that he assumed was Fredrick's. Biting his lip and blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill at the thought of finding his father and brother, both of them yet her seriously hurt or even worse, dead. Sam could barely handle it.

"Get in." Fredrick smiled, motioning him to get into his car before he too pulled the other door open and slid inside.

Buckling himself in and sighing, Sam glared out of the window and saw Bobby staring from the stained glass of his kitchen, whiskey in his left hand and his right up in a small wave.

Sam acknowledged it by nodding slightly and then leaning back against the leather interior, breathing deeply and wanting more than anything to find his family and try to return to normal. Not that Sam really had any idea of what normal really was.

 

Fredrick turned the key in the ignition and smiled at the soft purr his engine made as he pressed his foot on the gas and pulled out of the road, leaning over the back of Sam's chair to make sure the road was clear.

It was hard trying to be nice to the piece of scum that was placed in his pride and joy beside him, so hard not to just whip a gun out now and make everything better.

But for one, Bobby would see him, and two, Sam hadn't learned to trust Fredrick yet. He'd talk to him and make him feel safe, they'd stop for lunch and so on and the Winchester wouldn't suspect a thing.

 

"What music do you like, kid?" Fredrick asked gruffly as he rolled the window down beside him and felt the breeze dancing in and out of every strand of hair on his head.

"I don't really mind." Sam sighed and carried on staring mindlessly out of the window "Classic rock sounds good." And he had to bite the inside of his mouth hard so he didn't explode into sobs at the thought of Dean.

"Well I've got a lot of that." Fredrick chuckled softly and pulled out a tape from the compartment in the car door and slid it into the tape deck, it crackled slightly and then music started.

The sounds of different guitar chords filled Sam's ears and his heart ached more than ever when he realised what song he was listening to and how much it related to his situation.

The usual song that his father often played as they drove along in the Impala, Sam and Dean happily singing along, not a care in the world was bringing back such painfully happy memories.

Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here picked up and after listening to two verses, tears broke free of Sam's eyes and slid slowly down the sides of his burning cheeks.

 

_Wish you were here._

_We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,_

_Running over the same old ground._

_What have we found?_

_The same old fears._

_Wish you were here._

 

Fredrick glanced at the boy from the side and could see it was triggering certain memories that were somehow upsetting.

Upon noticing the older man looking at him, Sam quickly wiped the tears away and tried to ignore the overwhelming sadness that was building so far up inside of him that it was seemingly threatening to spill from his mouth.

 

The last few guitar chords, and then the song ended. The words 'wish you were here' rung around Sam's head loudly and he winced as though he'd been kicked in the gut.

It summed up how he felt about Dean and how it physically pained him to be away from him and know that he could be in so much danger and that Sam didn't possess enough power to find him.

"I'm gonna go and fill up the tank, kid." Fredrick told Sam after three hours of constant driving.

He then proceeded to sliding the keys in his pocket and sorting out the gas whilst Sam closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like to find Dean again. To feel his touch, listen to his soft voice that was so soothing to Sam that it could send him to sleep, feel his pink lips pressed so softly against his that his whole body would go numb.

~

"They won't be long now." Bertie stated, taking a large bite our of a greasy looking burger he'd just driven out to get and spraying crumbs all over the floor, the grease transferring from the food and laying in thick layers around his stubble.

This man was revolting.

Dean felt the words like a kick to the side and closed his eyes, wincing hard.

Bertie was bragging about the fact that in less than a day, he would have to watch his brother and lover get shot in the head in front of him. Bertie was going to let Dean watch his younger brother realise the immense mistake he had made and the look of pure pain on his beautiful face as he received the news of the death of their father. It weakened Dean by the second.

"You can't do that to him." Dean stared up at the vile man with his deep emerald eyes shining, so full of mercy and pleading that Bertie wanted to hit him. "You can do anything to me. _Anything_. Just don't kill Sammy. You can't. He's never done anything to either of you." And Dean's voice was reduced to small whispers as one tears left his eye and splashed against the floor.

He closed his eyes and thumped his head against the wall behind him in frustration and growled under his breath. 

He could not sit and watch Sammy get killed, he couldn't. But what was he supposed to do? He was so disabled that he couldn't even lift one finger, let alone get up and stop the two sick bastards from harming the only thing he loved and cherished to the extent that it pained him to be away from, the only real family he had left in the world.

"It doesn't matter." Bertie laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and chewing loudly, slurping from the straw joint to the cup in his chunky hand and making Dean sneer under his breath. He coughed a little and continued: "You didn't really do anything either. But Fredrick and I hate Winchesters. So it's kind of a no go on letting that little brother of yours live."

And Bertie put a fat finger in his ear, moved it a little and took it out, inspecting it.

"You're _disgusting_." Dean muttered quietly. But the constant ringing in his ears he had was deceiving how loud he was being and he spoke to Bertie clearly. Who stood up, walked over to the nineteen year old and punched him so hard around the face that his knuckles turned purple instantly.

~

Sam had been sitting doing nothing for five and a half hours, his brain was going wild. All he could think about was his family, all he could picture in his mind was the disturbing mental image of them all turning out to be dead.

Fredrick kept asking him questions that he didn't want to answer, and this new man was really getting on his nerves. No wonder his dad had never been on more than a couple hunting trips with him, he was bugging Sam big time.

"We're almost there." Fredrick muttered as he pulled down a side road and quickly glanced at Sam before turning back to the road.

Sam made a noise that neither signified him being happy or sad. After all, it would be pretty fucked up for him to be happy in this situation, and Sam was already so sad that he didn't think there was much else to be upset about.

 

Fredrick pulled down another road, a smaller one that disappeared soon and turned to a dirty track.

The truck bounced up and down on the uneven ground and Sam found himself rocking wildly in his seat, holding onto the handle on the side of the car so he didn't hurt himself.

After a few minutes of more driving, Fredrick turned the engine off again and undid his seatbelt, waiting for Sam to do the same.

Then he climbed out and walked around, opening the door for the young boy and watching him slide out and stand on the muddy ground.

"Who told you about this place?" Sam's voice was uneasy and he kept glancing at Fredrick quickly, the trust he had for him slowly seeping away until he was a bag of nerves.

"I told you, a hunter called me up and told me that he saw your brother down here." Fredrick tried to do his best convincing smile and it didn't really work,

Sam was ready to run when he felt the old man tap him on the shoulder.

Then he felt a large piece of metal smashing him in the face.

And then he was unconscious.


	18. It Reached Through His Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam discovers something that helps him when Fredrick takes him to Dean so that his brother can witness his death

Fredrick dropped the heavy metal bar onto the muddy floor and stared down at the limp body in front of him.

He knew that this wouldn't keep Sam out for long, he'd be up again in less than ten minutes. Fredrick picked up the boys long, lanky arms and proceeded to drag him nearer to the abandoned storage place he and Bertie had seemingly adopted.

" _Dammit_." He hissed under his breath, straining hard as he tried to pull the mass of weight along with him "It's like trying to pull along a goddamn _moose_."

 

Sam's eyes stayed tightly shut, his brain firing up. He knew that Fredrick wasn't all he'd said he was from the moment he'd met him, and sure, if he'd told Bobby about his suspicions then he wouldn't have let him go.

So, Sam had let Fredrick think he had no idea. But of course that one blow hadn't left him unconscious, it would take a lot more than that to knock him out.

But Sam couldn't let Fredrick know yet, he'd let him take him inside, near the room that Dean was supposedly being held in, then he would fight.

Sam suspected that Fredrick probably wasn't doing this alone. There was going to be someone else waiting on the sidelines in case anything happened, and Sam knew that he would probably have to get rid of them too to retrieve his brother and father.

 

Fredrick dropped the body to the floor and wiped streaks of sweat away from his forehead and inhaled deeply, god this boy was heavy.

Leaving Sam sprawled across the floor, Fredrick went to a nearby room to pick up some handcuffs he was going to use on the Winchester in case he thought he'd have the chance to escape.

Whistling lightly and picking up the small metal bounds, Fredrick turned back round and was slightly surprised when he felt a large fist, slamming into the side of his jaw and knocking more than a couple of his teeth loose in their roots.

Getting himself together, Fredrick blinked away the dizziness, dropped the handcuffs and wiped the excess blood off of his face before turning back to Sam with a raised eyebrow.

" _You're_ good." He stated, making a small face and waiting for Sam to do anything else, maybe Fredrick should have realised that it would probably take a little more than one blow to the face to stop one of the Winchesters.

After all, that was one of the main reasons in doing this whole thing, the Winchesters were just too good. And that meant that no time was left for looking up to anyone else apart from them, and that needed to stop.

So, as Sam swung his left arm round from the side, his nostrils flaring and his eyes so serious and so deadly that they looked as though they could set on fire; Fredrick grabbed hold of his wrist and twisted it, listening to the cracks and the crunches his bones made before he released and smiled at the boy as he cradled his hand and whimpered loudly in pain.

"What have you done to my brother you fucker?" Sam hissed loudly, still clutching onto his hand full of broken fingers and letting angry tears slide out of the corners of his eyes.

Fredrick glanced at the small gold watch on his wrist:

"Don't think we have enough time to go into _that_ much detail." And he chuckled lightly under his breath at the expression of true sorrow mixed with pure hatred on Sam's face.

~

Fredrick took a cigarette from his pocket and held it up to the window before taking out his lighter and flicking, a small flame jumping to life and dancing as a small breeze blew over the room.

He popped the end of the cigarette in his mouth and inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes and letting himself be transported to the land he drifted to when he really thought about it, ignoring the still breathing body of Sam Winchester that lay below him.

Of course he had made sure that the boy was properly unconscious before he had left him. Fredrick drew the smoke out of his mouth and watched as it formed small circles in the air and slowly travelled out of the open window and disappeared into the afternoon sky.

~

The door banged open and Dean's eyes snapped open, ignoring the searing pain behind his temples, he moaned loudly. It couldn't be.

"No..." Dean whimpered quietly. "Not Sammy. _No_." And he broke down, tears travelling down his face and splashing against his collar as he tried to control his breathing that was irritating his aching ribs.

Fredrick had bought an unconscious body in for Dean to see, and it was killing him.

He could see the mass of brown hair and his eyes sealed tightly closed, a thick layer of eyelashes all that could be seen of his eyes and small lines on his forehead as though it was furrowed in concern or confusion.

"You knew this was coming." Fredrick raised an eyebrow and laughed at Dean who had lost all control that he might have had minutes before.

It was so far out of reach and the harsh truth of reality had just smashed him so hard in the face that all he could do was cry.

"No..." Dean just continued, he couldn't hear Fredrick anymore. Just the sound of the shattering of his own heart as it slowly broke inside of him.

~

Sam sighed lightly and began to blink, totally oblivious to where he was, he had forgotten the events of earlier before he saw the staring face of Fredrick looking down on him with an open, toothy smile spread across his face.

"He's awake." He glanced at Bertie and the overweight man came and inspected Sam, making a satisfied grunting noise at the fact that the younger Winchester was now awake.

"Don't you do _anything_ to him." Dean's voice came in a growly husk from the corner of the room and Sam's head snapped around, his eyes so wide and his mind so hopeful that he forgot the terrible pain in and around his hand.

"Oh no." He whimpered at his brother, at the state of him and what he had become. It was something that made Sam want to die himself, then and there, just to get that glimpse of Dean out of his mind.

Dean closed his eyes in response and sighed, seemingly happy to see his brother but a certain pain crossed his face too, as though he was expecting something.

 

And that was when Fredrick pulled him up by his right arm and placed the tip of a gun against the side of his temple.

Sam grew stiff and his hazel eyes widened more, fixated on his beautiful older brother.

"I can't watch..." Dean cried and tried to turn away but Bertie was there in a flash, smashing his face around multiple times before Dean's face grew white with the pain.

"Time to say goodbye to little Sammy." Fredrick smiled and pressed a finger lightly against the trigger, waiting for one of them to speak before he decided he wanted to blow Sam's brains out so they'd spill all over the white floor.

"No!" Dean screamed as loudly as he could, which was not very loud, but his throat was so fucked up that it was the most he could muster.

 

And at this point, Sam felt something bubbling inside of him. Not the anger he often felt, but something different, totally different. It reached through his veins and surged from the tips of his hair to the ends of his toe nails and he felt a sudden strength that he'd never felt before.

Before he knew what he was doing, Sam's mind had clouded over into something indescribable and he had knocked the gun from Fredrick's hands and now had his hands pressed so tightly around his throat that the man's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets.

And he began making muffled choking sounds as Sam intensified the pain, only stopping for a few seconds as Bertie came running from behind and smashing him so hard around the face that he almost heard the pain radiating from the vile creature.

Fredrick tried to gather himself but Sam was back, throwing punches and smashing him so hard in every possible place on his body that there was not a single part of Fredrick that felt normal.

And he coughed slightly, blinking a couple of times before Sam walked further up his body and smashed him repeatedly over the head five times, that's all it took. That's all it took to kill Fredrick J. Martin.

 

And with one hand full of broken fingers and the other one not feeling so fresh after the recent events, Sam turned to Bertie, the gun Fredrick had threatened him with now in his own grip.

And he did to him what the old man would have done to Sam, and a pile of brains and blood lay splattered on the floor beside the lifeless body of Bertie.

~

Dean sat watching the whole events, so horrified and scared that he dared not blink the whole time.

Sam was standing over the two bodies with his fists clenched, his left hand slightly more open than the other one, his nostrils flaring and his eyes flashing angry mixed with something that looked like surprise.


	19. It's A Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finds out the terrible news about their father. He then takes Dean back to Bobby's house before it's too late for Dean.

Sam looked down at both of his hands, something was different. For one, his hand had stopped hurting. Completely. And he could move his fingers freely with no mind numbing pain.

But that wasn't all. He felt something strange. Something that he couldn't describe, some kind of power that he had never felt in himself before.

"H-how did you _do_ that?" Dean whispered from the other side, shuffling around on the chair he had been attached to for such a long time.

Sam's face was just as confused as his was, his eyes so wide and scared that he looked like he was about to cry.

He just kept looking down at his fingers and frowning and moving them around.

He then flicked his right hand out towards Fredrick and his lifeless body swept from the floor next to the Winchester and smashed against the wall so hard that a crack appeared in the cement.

"What the _fuck_...?" Sam muttered under his breath, turning to Dean with a look that he shared with his older brother.

Then, remembering what he was doing, Sam quickly walked over to Dean and carefully untied the bounds that held him down and scooped him up in his newfound, strong arms.

Dean's body was so limp and he was so hurt that it was making Sam feel ill.

"We'll find dad and then we can go back to Bobby. I'll drive, he will help fix you up and he might tell me why I just managed to smash Fredrick to the other side of the room by just lifting my hand up." Sam explained quickly, Dean didn't want to break the terrible news to his brother but saw no other options.

"Sammy..." He whispered quietly and his brother hushed him, expecting him to say something stupid and cheesy that they always do. How glad he was to have Sam find him, but it was so much more worse than that.

" **Sam**." Dean's voice was slightly louder and firmer now and Sammy stopped in his tracks, a little taken aback at the fact Dean was speaking to him so cruelly all of a sudden. Dean's face softened and his eyes watered up with tears. "

It's dad." He shook his head and leant it back in frustration, not even able to wipe the tears away because his arms were so broken and hurt.

Sam stopped breathing for a couple of seconds and waited to hear more.

Dean cleared his throat, which sent him into a spasm of coughs and he looked in so much pain that Sam physically sprinted to the car with his older brother tucked away safely in his strong grip. "

I'm sorry Sammy.." Dean just kept crying over and over again, whispering the same words in his brother's ear as he slowly slid Dean into the back of truck and made sure he was comfortable.

"I know it isn't going to be good to see dad looking so hurt, hell, it _killed_ me seeing you like this. But I need to go and find him." Sam's voice was firm and he didn't seem to understand where Dean was heading, he didn't want to have to tell his little Sammy that their father was dead.

"No. That's not _it_." Dean stopped and forced back the tears that were threatening to spill, he couldn't cry again. "Fredrick and Bertie told me that they'd killed him. And that was when I first got here. Sammy, dad's gone."

And he broke down then, his voice cracking and his face crinkling up, tears rolling down the creased lines.

But the look of pain that overtook him made Sam jump into the front of the truck and turn the keys in the ignition, they'd need to get back quickly.

 

It didn't take Sam long to really think about what Dean had just told him, and for it to set in.

Soon he was weeping silently as he reached the highway and drove along in the afternoon light,the only sound that of the hushed breeze and Dean's wheezing breathing in the back. Sam knew that he was driving too fast.

But he was afraid that Dean would die if he didn't get him back soon, he was so badly hurt that it was making Sam's stomach churn just looking at him.

And there was also the fact that he'd just been able to move a man with the flick of his hand, what was that? Sam thought to himself as he drove and came up with the theory that it was just adding to the list of him being a freak, when all he'd ever wanted to be was something normal.

~

Bobby turned over in his bed and sighed quietly in his sleep, so deep out of everything that he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard thrashing sounds coming from the front door downstairs.

" _Balls_." He groaned, glancing at his watch and seeing it was just ten minutes past three in the morning, and the only sort of people that came then were hunters, and maybe they had something on the Winchesters.

So, slipping on his dressing gown and his slippers, Bobby trudged downstairs and walked towards the wooden door at the end of the house.

He pulled the lock and unbolted it, slowly opening it to see who was there. What he saw next nearly broke him.

 

Sam was standing with eyes so red and full of tears that he looked like he was going to have a meltdown, Dean tucked in his arms with a face the colour of paper, one eye sealed tightly shut, a small bone above his right eye protruding the skin.

The rest of him was just as bad.

"You can't let him _die_ , Bobby." Sam whispered desperately in the darkness and pushed past the middle aged man and ran into the living room, slowly sliding him onto the sofa and looking at him with so much worry that he had to run to the toilet to produce the vomit that had been threatening him since his father had disappeared almost two weeks ago.

Dean was unconscious, still breathing, but not very well. Sam could feel his ribs sticking out here and there and he had been out for so long that it would be a miracle to rouse him again.

Bobby was running around the house, some of his friends had awoken from the raucous and had come down to help. 

Everyone was pitching in on ideas of how to help Dean with his arms and legs, and it was slowly working. After the first five remedies had failed to wake Dean, he slowly began to stir on the six and everyone smiled lightly before it was taken over with sadness at the thought of his father and how torn up he must be inside that he got out, and John hadn't managed to see daylight ever again. 

~

"You need to leave your brother a while." Bobby put a firm hand on Sam's shoulder, he was still standing shaking, as he has been since they'd arrived at Sioux Falls and had insisted on staying at his brother's bedside. 

It was now six o'clock in the morning, and one of Bobby's friends who was a trained doctor had made the trip down as an emergency and was currently treating the older Winchester boy. 

"I don't think I can do this much longer." And Sam turned to Bobby with so much desperation and pleading in his expression and voice that it made Bobby more than a little choked up himself. 

Sam's face crinkled and he too began to cry, long, loud sobs that seemed to ring around the room and make everything twice as bad.

"Come with me, son." And those four words seemed to make everything worse. Sam realised at this point that he could have respected Bobby so much more than he had done in the past. 

He remembered how a couple of days ago he had told Dean that he wasn't really their uncle and no, he wasn't. He was so much more than that. 

 

Bobby led Sam into one of the back rooms and sat him down at a wooden table, a bottle of bourbon and two tumblers placed in front of them. 

"Tell me what you saw, Sam. If there's anything that stands out to you. I know you don't know that much about John yet," andBobby winced at his own words, "but tell me what you know."

And he poured some of the golden liquid into the two glasses and moved one across the table to the fifteen year old boy on the other side, who because of sorrow, looked a million years older.

"Fredrick took me out to the forest, and he hit me round the face. I pretended to be unconscious so that it would be easier to get inside." Sam paused and took a long swig of whiskey, Bobby raised his eyebrow thoughtfully at how clever that move had been. 

"He knocked me out properly after that and I woke up in the room in front of Dean. He looked so _beaten_ , Bobby. And that's when Fredrick put a gun to my head. He was talking about making Dean watch and then killing him. But, I felt this weird power surge through me. Something that I've _never_ felt before.

He stopped once again and fiddled with his hair, Bobby sat forward in his chair, seemingly so much more interested than he was a few seconds before.

"Carry on..." He muttered, downing his whole drink in one, long mouthful.

"And I was suddenly strangling Fredrick, and then smashing him round the head. And he died. I shot Bertie in the head too." Sam out his head in his hands and cried like the small child he'd forgotten he still was, the tears pricking his cheeks and his whole body rocking with sadness. 

"Is that all?" Bobby was scratching his chin thoughtfully and looking at Sam as though expecting him to say something that would confirm his thoughts. 

"I felt something running in my bones, it went into my hands and I felt the need to flick my right hand. So I did. And that's when Fredrick went smashing against the wall and cracked the concrete." Sam's voice was so full of honesty that even someone who had no idea what was going on would believe him.

"Oh _lord_." Bobby whispered under his breath, clearing his throat, he looked up with glistening eyes, full of tears. "Your father and I always knew that there was something different about you, I just didn't expect this." 

"What exactly _is_ it?" Sam placed a hand on Bobby's. He needed to know what was happening.

"Well, I don't really know if this is the right kinda time to tell you this. But I'm gonna anyway. That thing your pap was huntin', well it had 'special people." Bobby stopped and looked at Sam who looked very confused.

" _Special_?" He asked, his eyes still crimson from the crying. 

Bobby nodded in agreement and continued: 

"Well this thing, we reckon it's a demon. And I'm pretty sure it bled into you when your momma was dyin'." Bobby bit his lip and looked up at Sam, expecting the worst. All Sam could do was frown and try and turn the thoughts over in his head.


	20. Stairway To Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John visits Dean, leaving him more than upset and Bobby discovers something that could have stopped everything

_Dean walked through the field, brushing his fingertips against the long blades of grass that reached high above his hips._

_All around him was bright. So bright in fact that he was constantly squinting, he looked into the distance and then sat himself down in between the plants, breathing in the scents of different flowers._

_It was the first time he had really felt relaxed, ever._

_Dean closed his eyes and as he opened them, his favourite song played loudly and danced through the leaves of the trees as they reach his ears._

_Stairway To Heaven by Led Zeppelin was so loud and clear that Dean let himself drift off into the distant lands of his memories and a small smile spread across his face, he felt as though he was floating, like he wasn't altogether there._

_And when he opened his eyes once again, it was night time and he heard the cries of the birds as they flew across the bright white moon._

_"Dean?" He heard a familiar voice ask from behind, and very slowly, Dean turned to see who it belonged to._

_He choked slightly when he saw._

_It was his father. But at the same time it wasn't._

_Everything around him was creeping into a deep pool of ebony and his father stood in front of him, his skin so badly burned that it was almost unrecognisable._

_He kept crying out his eldest son's name and trying to touch him, Dean recoiled at the touch and everything was melting around him._

_A tear left John's eye and stuck in one of the seared parts of skin just above his cheekbone and a look of pure sorrow crossed his face._

_"Wake up, it's not your time to die." His voice was firmer than before but the sadness that tinged it made Dean want to hold his father forever._

_And John stepped forward and placed a half burnt off hand on his boy's shoulder and everything began to disintegrate._

_Dean tried his hardest to hold onto his father's grip, but John pushed him further down._

 

~

And soon everything had turned white before flashes of something else crossed over him.

It was Sam, leaning over him.

Dean gasped loudly and threw himself up, his green eyes opened wildly as he glanced around the room and screamed so loudly that Sam winced.

He had never seen Dean like this before, and it was more upsetting than he could have ever thought.

"Dean? It's ok. You're here now." And Sam leant down, being careful not to touch any of his brother's injuries, which was pretty difficult seeing as he was hurt almost everywhere, and he scooped Dean up in his arms.

Dean had cared and looked after him since as long as he could remember, and Sam was more than happy to return the favour.

Although Bobby's words rang out around his head so loudly that it was actually hurting, a demon had bled into him? It made no sense to the younger Winchester but he knew it was far from good.

" _Dad_?" Dean spoke weakly and he coughed loudly, Sam reached past him and helped his brother sip the water he had in a glass and then placed it back on the table.

"You don't remember?" Sam whispered gently, using his hands so softly to brush Dean's damp hair, rung with sweat, water and clumped together in sticky lumps of dark blood, dying his caramel coloured strands and making them look so much darker.

Dean made a face and thought about it for a second, he remembered where he had been seconds before. He had seen his dad. And that hadn't been a dream.

"I _saw_ him." Dean confessed quietly, he leant his head back on the arm of the chair and tried to move his arm and cried out in pain as he remembered.

Sam made a noise that signified question and Dean took a deep breath before continuing:

"I _saw_ dad, Sammy. Just before, he told me to wake up. And he was so _burnt_ and-" Dean burst into meek cries before he could finish and Sam rocked him gently.

~

Bobby walked across the room, he was sure by the end of this week he'd have more wrinkles than he would have gotten in more than ten years if he hadn't have been so stressed.

He flicked his finger through the dusty volumes on the shelf before he found the one he was looking for.

" _Gotcha_." He muttered as he snatched it from its place and blew the dust off, closing his eyes as it blew around the room and rose towards the uncovered light bulb in the centre.

He sat back down in one of the chairs with a big sigh and lifted the cover away from the heavy volume and scanned the page, using his finger to help him search for what he was looking for. He whispered to himself quietly as he flicked page after page, skimming it quickly before sighing and reading the next one.

After searching the whole five hundred and sixty two pages, Bobby slammed the book shut and leant back in the chair, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers.

" _Balls_." He sighed quietly, getting back up and picking up the volume to put back on the shelf.

As he lifted the book, a small page that was folded in half and covered in sprawled handwriting that was almost unreadable flew to the floor by Bobby's feet.

Raising an eyebrow and sitting back down, he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel and readjusted his cap on his head and reached down and took the page in his grip before placing it down on the wooden table in front of him.

Bobby unfolded it and flattened out the page, trying to remove the creases to make the writing a little easier to read.

He skimmed the first two paragraphs in hope for something different.

And, _bingo_.

After reading and searching up what a lot of the words meant in the book he had just looked through, Bobby found what he was looking for and took much more care reading.

 

Five minutes past and he slowly folded the paper back up, zipped it up in his jacket pocket and placed his head in his hands.

" _Azazel_..." He muttered quietly to himself, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

~

Sam ran upstairs quickly, his bladder had been bugging him for a while when he had been holding Dean but he had chosen to ignore it. But, he couldn't hold it for much longer.

After using the bathroom, Sam walked across the landing and listened to the echoing creaks the floorboards made as he trod on them.

There were hunters everywhere, swarming the house, discussing what had happened to Dean, what had happened to their father.

Sam slammed the door shut and walked over to the bed he had been longing since that morning.

He placed himself down on the soft mattress and closed his eyes, a single tear managed to slide out from the wrinkled corners and splashed against the wooden floor beneath and formed the smallest puddle.

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes, realising how tired he was.

 

Walking back downstairs and into the living, where a few hunters he didn't recognise were checking Dean over, Sam made it quite obvious that he wanted to be alone with his brother. They left quickly, realising that they were intruding.

"Would you feel more comfortable sleeping upstairs in the bed?" Sam asked quietly, stroking Dean's hair again (it was the only place that gave the least pain to his brother, although when Sam had looked he'd found shards of glass stuck here and there. Those two sick bastards has _not_ gone easy on Dean Winchester).

Dean opened his one good eye and nodded slightly, swinging his right leg down and attempting to stand up, crying out in pain he fell back again.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you _crazy_?" Sam asked in disbelief as he shoved two hands under Dean's back and scooped him up. Trust Dean to think he'd be able to make the journey upstairs on his own with a broken knee cap, broken ribs and two broken arms, but that was typical Dean.

 

He let Sammy carry him upstairs and closed his eyes, letting his head swing back and move as Sam walked into the back room to inform Bobby that Dean would feel safer upstairs.

So, reaching the bedroom, Sam used his foot to open the door and very gently, he placed his older brother in the middle of the bed and began covering him up with the duvets.

"No..." Dean groaned and then continued "Too hot. Sleep without it." His words sounded distorted and he couldn't even string together full sentences.

Sam sighed and felt so bad inside that he too, felt a pain running through his body as he imagined the discomfort that Dean must be feeling. Not that discomfort was a word that truly _described_ the state of Dean Winchester at that point.

 

"Could you take my jacket off?" Dean asked quietly when Sam reentered the bedroom after cleaning his teeth.

Nodding, he walked over to his older brother and helped him slowly take his limp arms, that were now heavily bandaged, out of each armhole and around his back, he then threw it to the side of the bedroom and quickly stripped down to his underwear and shirt so that he too, could sleep.

~

_Dean closed his eyes and felt himself drifting into a fitful sleep, he could feel someone near him and he turned, John was by the window._

_So much pain and sorrow on his face that Dean cried out and reached a hand out to touch him, once again, he was unharmed._

_John was so messed up. His face was almost unrecognisable. Burns everywhere, his hair almost singed off his head._

_"Don't blame yourself, Dean. You did what you could." And John gave the smallest of nods before slowly seeping into the floor and vanishing._

 

Dean awoke with a start again and felt Sam's hand wrapping around him gently, reassuring him.

The beating of his own heart in his chest was making him jump.

Dean wondered how long it would be until he got back to normal, and that was, if he even did get back to normal after the injuries the two men had inflicted on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are only going to be a few more chapters of this story, but depending on how my other fics go, I might write a sequel.  
> This story will not involve Azazel as a character! It was just to explain what happens to Sam and make a new story if I was ever going to write another one.  
> Thanks again!  
> Remember to leave kudos and comments as always! :)


	21. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds happiness after death and Sam tells Bobby how he really feels about everything that has happened over his life

Morning light ran through the flimsy curtains and cast shadows on the wooden floorboards and ran like golden honey, brightening the dark room that Bobby had spent the night in; awake and not being able to shut down the thoughts that flooded his head.

Sighing and rubbing his eyes (which now held heavy, dark bags) Bobby yawned deeply and stood up taking out the same piece of paper he had slipped in his pocket the day before. He had spent the whole day doing research, and he couldn't say that he was happy to find out the truth.

Azazel was the cause of Mary Winchester's death, he had bled into Sam's mouth, for Sam to go and worship him.

It was the thought of what might follow in later years that connected to this demon that made Bobby feel ill. Anything that could have been normal about Sam had been stripped from him in less than two days.

Not that he knew this yet.

To Sam, all he knew was that a demon had bled into his mouth as baby, he knew nothing else of the trouble that would come later on.

The need he'd get. That need that wouldn't subside until he drank again. And the day he drank again would be the day he would be addicted.

That's _all_ it took for Sam to start drinking demon blood.

And if he did that, he just might not be the Sammy everybody knew anymore.

~

Dean stirred and blinked a couple of times, wrinkling up his nose to see to an itch that he couldn't scratch because of his arms.

Looking at the window in the corner, Dean could see the bright outline of daytime outside and knew that he'd probably been asleep for quite the while.

"Good morning." Sam smiled kindly and brushed his mouth against Dean's forehead gently, trying to avoid the bandage that was placed over the right side of his head.

Dean grunted a reply and looked up at his brother, who was propped up on one elbow beside him, Sam was looking at him with glistening hazel eyes and Dean felt something fluttery rush through his stomach and he moved his lips to smile at his brother.

Big mistake. As soon as he did so, the cracks and cuts split open again and slowly, the usual pink of his skin turned red and he could taste the metallic blood in his mouth once again.

Wincing, Dean threw his head back on the pillow in frustration and looked at Sam as he smiled sympathetically at his older brother.

"Don't worry, Dean." Sam started, laying back down beside his Dean "You'll be bright as rain in no time again, don't you worry about that."

"I sure hope so." Dean muttered gruffly, his voice crackling as his throat felt as though it was going to crack in two.

~

John blinked quickly, expecting to feel the bright white lights of his surroundings burn into his pupils, but it felt no different.

He opened them slowly and they instantly adjusted to the brightness.

Taking up two hands and feeling the air around him, he jumped back a bit at the sight of his hands, no burns, no scars. Just tanned skin, and it wasn't as withered as it had been a couple of days ago.

John slowly took his fingers and brushed them against his face, expecting to feel ugly bumps and grotesque scars, but no, his face was smoother than it had been since Mary had been alive.

"Hello?" He called out into the light, his voice was younger than he had expected. John was still confused as to where he was.

"Johnny." John heard a familiar voice from behind him that made him want to cry, slowly moving himself round, John whimpered from something mixed between happiness and pure sadness.

" _Mary_." He raised an eyebrow and bit his lip as a tear slid out of his eye and splashed against his cheek.

She was younger than she had been at the time of her death, twenty-three or so.

And John assumed he must have been the same age seeing as he looked and felt so different.

Mary took a step forward and brushed a warm, welcoming hand against her husband's arm and smiled so happily that it made John cry even harder.

"Where am I?" He asked after a second, still as confused as he has been at his arrival.

"You haven't realised?" Mary answered softly, her voice so wet and beautiful that John counted himself lucky that he could hear it again.

After the years of pain, the terrible fifteen years in which he had felt so isolated from everybody else and all he had wanted was for Mary to have lived, for them and the boys to have had a normal life.

"It's _heaven_ , John." And it was Mary's turn to raise an eyebrow, she laughed softly and revealed the row of perfect white teeth she had always had and her soft blonde hair bounced around on her shoulders as she moved.

He closed both eyes and silently prayed. Prayed for the fact that God had accepted him to the world he never thought he'd enter, and the fact that he was back with the beloved who had so cruelly been taken from him do many years before.

~

Sam pulled on his shoes and told Dean that he'd be back in less than half an hour. Dean didn't seem to mind, he was catching up on sleep and trying his best not to move on his injured limbs.

Bounding down the stairs, Sam tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and knocked gently on the door of Bobby's office, clearing his throat quietly.

"Who's there?" Bobby's voice sounded older and withered from outside and for some reason, it made Sam a little sad.

"It's Sam." And before Bobby could answer, Sam had entered and was shutting the door behind him. Bobby looked like death warmed up. His face was so sunken and pale and the bags under his eyes made him look a million years older.

"I want you to know that, whatever you've found out. I'm not gonna do anything bad. I just need to know why it bled into me. I need to know more than anything, Bobby." And there was such much pleading in Sam's voice that, even if Bobby had wanted to disagree, he wouldn't have been able to.

" _Q_." He said under his breath before sliding the piece of paper across the table and watching Sam as he quickly scanned it, his face dropping a little more as each second went by.

"Oh." Was all that Sam could reply, he dropped the paper down and let the news sink in. And coughing lightly, he continued:

"But it's alright. Because I'd never drink demon blood by choice. No one could ever make me do that. What's done is done and I can't change that. The same as dad, hell, the same as mom. I'd change what happened to the both of them just so I could switch. And I know you'd do the same for you wife, I'd even be Dean upstairs with all the pain that he is in right now. But I'm not. And it's the others who have to deal with it. And as I said, what's done is done. There's no changing what happened almost sixteen years ago, no matter how much it pains me that as every day goes past, I never knew my own mother, I can't do anything about that. And that's how life is, Bobby. We can't decide fate. And at the end of the day, if we could, it would do absolutely no good what so ever. So, maybe it's something I should be thankful for. If I hadn't been able to possess that strength in there, Dean and I would be up there with our parents." And Sam looked up, tears wetting his eyes.

Bobby was a little shocked by the boy's words, but deep down he knew he was right.

What was done was done, what had happened had happened.

And there's no point deciding your own fate, because one day, everything will fall into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone that has left kudos, comments, criticism and compliments, has played such an important part in helping me complete this fan fiction and I am more than grateful!
> 
> That's to all of you, you've given me inspiration to write more and carry on doing something I love.
> 
> Thanks so much :)
> 
> I can't wait for you guys to read my next fic and see if you enjoy it as much as you seemed to this one :D


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